


i see a technicolor shadow underneath your window

by akajung



Series: manhattan beach 2.0 [2]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Friends to Lovers, Jaeyong and Markhyuck if you squint (or not really), M/M, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-13
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2019-05-18 14:52:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 36,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14854874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akajung/pseuds/akajung
Summary: While people’s mind-voice throws Jaemin off balance, Jeno’s does not. Their complicated friendship sure does, though, but maybe it’s because they'd kissed once and Jaemin just wants to do it again.





	i see a technicolor shadow underneath your window

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mylifeincoffeespoons](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mylifeincoffeespoons/gifts).



> for the nana to my jeno, kia. my forever love, what wouldn't i do for you? have my entire life ♡
> 
> also special thanks to my chaotic mom emsie for helping me w/ the plot months ago (legit this fic wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you) and miss nyo aka my #1 snakemin enabler for helping me edit things ;w; ily both for putting up with this idiot everyday please don't ever let me go OTL
> 
> quick reminder that you can learn of some more details i won't put in the stories [here](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1Htn2zQHDnU7wAV4gcnjtiE7yq69aDJzpvS5WydExgNs/edit?usp=sharing)!! not required obviously but just in case

Socio sucks. That is all.

Jaemin can’t even remember why he even bothered to pick this class at the start of his first year when he knew for a fact that Jeno _and_ Donghyuck had both chosen Anthro (Donghyuck dropped out of school a few months later, but still). The only good thing about Socio is that it’s once a week, on Thursday, right before lunch, and maybe the teacher isn’t so bad, but damn does Jaemin really hate talking about social interactions in general.

Why waste your time and effort analyzing how humans interact when you can just touch them and _know_ how screwed up people really are on the inside, really. Now that would put you off studying them, for sure.

(Okay, most people can’t relate, but he really does question why he’s here and not somewhere else. He’s sitting way in the back, alone at his desk because he literally knows no one else in the whole classroom, listening to Mr. Moon talk over and over again about deviance. He’s bringing up old topics, they already learned this last year, what even is the point?)

It’s not hard to understand why Jeno falls asleep often in his Anthro class, really. It’s an actual wonder that he hasn’t been doing the same since last year. Or follow Donghyuck’s steps and jump out of the window, for that matter – but Jaemin’s Socio classroom is on the third floor, and his legs aren’t nearly as durable as Donghyuck’s are. He doesn’t really want a broken limb over some dumb subject he hates.

The talk drifts from deviance to something else – more things he doesn’t need to be told to know, no doubt – and Jaemin is actually trying to read what’s printed on his textbook when someone taps his arm and he startles with a gasp, instinctively pulling his hand away before turning to look at the face of a female classmate whose name he hasn’t even bothered to remember. She seems surprised that Jaemin looks so unreasonably disturbed by her touch, but she quickly erases the doubt from her face.

“Hey,” she says, and Jaemin blinks. “Jaemin, right? You dropped your pen.”

“Oh,” Jaemin says. He looks down and notices that one of his pens has rolled down to the floor, and he shuffles to pick it up. “Thanks.”

It’s not the touch that’s shocked him; it‘s the abundance of perplexing, foreign thoughts suddenly sent into him, invading every inch of his mind and taking over his current brain occupation—“How do you do this? How do you talk to a boy?”—“Can the bell ring now, please.”—“Minkyung’s acting weird. Did I do something wrong again?”—and now Jaemin can feel his head and shoulders growing heavier, as if her thoughts are palpable, crushing his body down with their unfamiliarity.

It’s been years and he’s still disoriented.

 _This_ , he thinks tiredly, _is why I really don’t like people._

He doesn’t like people, save for maybe a few idiots like Mark and Renjun, who just went through an equally boring class of Geo when Jaemin stumbles across them in the hallway. Renjun’s expression is barely neutral while Mark just looks half-dead, but Jaemin is sure he’s not any better, so he doesn’t mention it.

“What’s uppppp,” Mark says, his footsteps slowing down when he spots Jaemin pushing up the sleeves of his sweater near the stairs. “How was Socio?”

“Did you really have to ask or do you just hate me?”

“T’was a joke, man, I know you were dying in there,” Mark says, grinning and patting his back. Mark’s hand presses straight on the fabric of his clothes, so his thoughts aren’t as obvious as the girl’s earlier, but since it’s _Mark_ , whom he has known for like, five years, it still feels like he’s grabbed Jaemin by the shoulders and yelled “I wonder what’s for lunch” at his face. His thoughts still get through. Loudly. Both endearingly and annoyingly.

“Corn chowder,” Jaemin says with a sigh, and Mark whistles. “It’s Thursday. I hate Thursdays. As if the menu could make today worse.”

“We should go now while everyone else’s still busy in class,” Renjun adds in, when Jaemin just stares dejectedly at the window. The cloud is hanging low and gray today, and it’s supposed to be raining later. Perfect. He totally needs to get his shoes soaked. “I’m sure you don’t want to witness Mark splashing an entire bowl of chowder all over his shirt. Even if it’s secondhand, I still don’t like being embarrassed in general.”

“What? He’s gonna mess up again?” Jaemin says, looking at the back of Mark’s head, who is now crouching down to tie his shoelaces. Mark grunts. “Did you _see_ this happening?”

“I see it happening if we don’t actually haul ass and get down now,” Renjun says, and he grabs both Mark and Jaemin by the arms and pulls them down the stairs with him. “If we can get there before Jisung Park does, we can save Mark’s shirt.”

 

 

“Do you think I should switch my Socio class with Geo?” Jaemin asks Mark when they’re both lining up in queue for the chowder. Jaemin doesn’t like it all that much, but the weather will only get harsher from now on. He will need the warmth. “So I can be with you guys, at least? And not fall asleep in class? And not end up failing everything?”

“Wow, you hate it that much?”

“I thought we’ve already made it clear that I hate it more than I hate you.”

“You don’t hate me even one bit though,” Mark says, turning to look at Jaemin and grins. Jaemin smiles back, because honestly, Mark is right. Jaemin doesn’t hate. Not really.

“I know it doesn’t show, but I do. I hate everyone who takes Donghyuck away from me. You’re the worst offender in this branch of crime.”

Mark just laughs dryly. “Oh, please. I’m not taking Donghyuck away from you, I would literally gain nothing from that. Nothing but suffering, I guess.”

“I’ll tell him you said that.”

“Go right ahead, that wouldn’t change anything,” Mark says, sliding to the side with his tray and lets Jaemin take two bowls for him and Renjun.

“Yeah, but it would make things worse for you.”

Mark shrugs, but the grin stays. He seems to be in a good mood today now that he’s escaped Geo. “True. But back to Socio, why don’t you just switch it with Anthro? Jeno’s alone in there, anyway, since Hyuck so unceremoniously bailed on him last year.”

Jaemin slides his tray next to Mark’s and thinks for awhile. Mark is right. It does sound interesting. Plus, there’s Jeno, who automatically makes everything better, or at least less unbearable.

“But that wouldn’t make any sense. Anthro’s like, a sister subject of Socio. I’m trying to get away from the whole ‘human talking about other humans’ meta here in case you haven’t noticed.”

Mark pauses as the cafeteria lady takes a spoonful of soup for him. Then he looks at Jaemin again, face perplexed as if his argument just now was so irrational that he just couldn’t understand it. “But… Jeno is there.”

Jaemin rolls his eyes. Jeno is there, indeed. “What’s your point?”

“Aren’t you guys like… soulmates?” Mark asks, eyebrows raised. “Always together wherever forever? One package deal?”

Jaemin looks over Mark’s shoulders, gaze searching atop the heads of many students coming into the cafeteria, looking for people – someone – he’s familiar with. He notices Renjun, sitting down on a table in the corner, once again hiding his face behind a book with his glasses pushed up his nose, and he vaguely spots Chenle’s familiar green blazer in the middle of the crowd, so Jisung must be near, too, but Jaemin is looking for someone else. Someone with dark hair and crescent eyes; someone with slim, pretty fingers that are often busy with small animals; someone who rarely throws a pebble at his window first but when he does, he throws like he wants to break the glass, for god’s sake. _That_ someone.

Mark nudges his arm when Jaemin doesn’t respond. He winces when a bit of Mark’s wonder is passed through.

“Ignoring me?” he asks, then glances back, too, trying to see where Jaemin is looking. “If you’re looking for Jeno, though, he’s not going to join us. He didn’t do his Chem report right last night, he’s probably busy fixing it now.”

Jaemin turns to look at Mark in surprise. “Really? Why didn’t I know this?”

“Uh, because he just found out this morning?”

“How did _you_ know, then?” Jaemin demands, narrowing his eyes suspiciously at his friend, who just blinks blankly at him.

“He told Renjun earlier,” Mark replies. “During Calculus. He sounded pretty freaked out about it, so I guess it’s normal that he’s gone now.”

Jaemin’s left eye twitches. “Oh right, they share Calculus.”

They both leave the queue, which is gradually getting longer and longer. The cafeteria becomes less quiet, less empty, and Jaemin, with his rising anxiety level, hunches his shoulder just so he won’t accidentally brush against someone while he walks. Someone _does_ touch him, but it’s Mark again, and his familiar mind-voice passes through his skin once more.

_You sound pissed._

“I’m not,” Jaemin automatically replies, a little too hastily, even though technically Mark hasn’t said anything. Mark raises an eyebrow, because evidently Jaemin _does_ sound pissed. “I’m not,” he says again, calmer this time. He can know the things Mark thinks about, but Mark can’t know his. That’s the only good thing about his power, really, it only works one way. “Why would I be?”

 _Because Jeno didn’t tell you first, for once_ , Mark thinks, and Jaemin snorts.

“I’m sure if we had met today, he would’ve told me first,” Jaemin says anyway, carefully maneuvering his elbow so a hyper first-year won’t touch him mid-run. His bowl almost topples over, but Jaemin is graceful (he’s not Mark). “It’s weird. Even though we’re so close, we don’t exactly talk in school. Or even meet here, for that matter.”

_Isn’t that just because you talk so much outside school that you just don’t need to talk here?_

_Maybe_ , Jaemin thinks, but then he remembers that Mark can’t know his thoughts unless he says it out loud. He doesn’t. He lets the question hang unanswered, just like the darkening clouds outside, and his depleting mood.

He might’ve put down Renjun’s bowl a little too forcefully, but the hasty apology he murmurs right after and a pat on the older’s arm might help convince him that he didn’t do it on purpose (he really didn’t).

 

 

Jaemin’s sort-of annoyance doesn’t subside until much later. He’s managed to switch his Socio with Geo, but halfway through filling out the form he already feels like he’s going to regret it. He makes a promise with himself that if he ends up not liking Geo for real, he’ll switch it again to Anthro this time and just stick there forever. With Jeno. Despite everything.

Another cause of his declining mood is that Jeno doesn’t show up even after school ends. One tip from Jisung later and Jaemin knows that Jeno is still working on his report somewhere in the school library using their outdated computer, probably getting seriously frustrated by now that Jaemin immediately cancels all ideas of visiting him to ask how he’s doing.

“Oh, Nana,” Jisung says, sounding surprised when Jaemin just shrugs and goes straight for the school gate, “The library’s that way, though?”

“Nah. Let’s not bother him,” Jaemin says, beckoning for Jisung to follow after him. The younger’s face lights up instantly and he paddles over to him, grinning. Now here’s someone who will definitely be happy if Jaemin isn’t physically and emotionally attached to Jeno for once. “Wanna get ice cream on the way home?” he asks, just for the sake of it.

Jisung beams at him even more. “Yeah, sure!”

“Where’s Chenle?”

“Oh,” Jisung says, his smile immediately faltering. “He’s absent today. He… caught a cold.”

Jaemin doesn’t even have to touch Jisung to know what _exactly_ has caused said cold. “You were both out late practicing again, weren’t you? Wait, wasn’t it raining last night?!”

“Uh—“

Jisung moves quickly as if he’s about to turn around and run, but Jaemin is quicker. He catches the hood of his jacket and pulls him back, winding an arm around Jisung’s neck. “Don’t run away from your fate, Jisung Park!” Jaemin tells him, and he flicks Jisung’s ear for good measure, earning himself a squeal. “Tell me, at what time did you go home last night?”

Jisung stutters. “Ugh, eight? Probably?”

“Then it _was_ raining!” Jaemin exclaims, flicking Jisung again on the forehead this time. The younger’s distress transfers into him, but he ignores it. “You’re lucky we just started the semester, or else I really would’ve throttled you. I never raised you to be this rebellious! Whose bad influence is this? It’s Donghyuck’s, isn’t it?”

“No! But I really _need_ to practice,” Jisung whines, still with Jaemin’s arm around his neck as the older drags him out from the schoolyard. “I want to increase the amount of times I can go in one single minute without breaking! You know this.”

“Keep doing that and I’ll be the one who breaks you,” Jaemin says, rolling his eyes. “What if you’d passed out? In the middle of the woods? Alone? You could’ve died.”

“Chenle was there.”

“I doubt it’d make a difference whether he was there or not,” Jaemin says. “He still wouldn’t have been able to help you.”

“Would _you?_ ” Jisung asks back, looking at Jaemin. “Would you be able to help me, in case I pass out while I’m practicing?”

Jaemin looks at Jisung in disbelief. “Obviously. What kind of question is that?”

Jisung’s mouth separates into a grin. “Wanna teleport to the ice cream shop, then? I can do five in a minute now, and I won’t even get a nosebleed—“

“ _No_ ,” Jaemin says strictly, tightening his hold on the younger’s arm. “We’re walking there, Jisung Park, and you have no choice. I’ve been spoiling you too much.”

Jaemin ignores Jisung’s incessant complaints all the way to the ice cream shop.

 

 

Jaemin stops in front of his gate, one hand hanging loosely on the metal rail. He looks up at Jeno’s window, which is unmistakably still closed and locked since his blinds are down. It seems like he hasn’t gone back home yet.

Jisung suddenly calls out from across the street. “I already told you, he won’t be home until much later. He really screwed up his report this time.”

Jaemin scoffs. “I wasn’t even thinking anything,” he tries to defend himself, but Jisung just raises an eyebrow and lifts up his popsicle in a mocking salute. “Go home, kid. Do your homework. If I catch you going out after six, you’re done for.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jisung says, but he’s grinning as he runs into his house. “See you tomorrow, Nana!”

Jaemin hums in response, and pushes the gate open. Regardless of what he’s just said to Jisung, he really has been thinking about why Jeno hasn’t come home yet. Just how bad did he screw up, really? The guy has at least five animals in the house: three cats and two… something else (the species change everyday, he’s not sure what other animals Jeno currently keeps). Who’s going to feed those hell spawns if he keeps coming home late?

Whatever. So long as they don’t migrate to _his_ house, Jaemin guesses.

 

 

It’s half past five when Jaemin hears the first pebble hitting his window. Twenty seconds later, after the second pebble, he’s already propped himself up on one elbow, one foot tucked underneath the blanket he has never bothered to fold since he was eight, probably. He was drifting to sleep a few moments ago, but now he’s wide awake again.

When he opens his window and sticks his head out, Jeno is in the middle of picking his third pebble from his bowl (they both have these matching plastic bowls on their windowsill, filled with small stones that they refill everyday). He looks up and catches Jaemin’s eyes, and that’s it: Jaemin’s persistent annoyance recedes almost instantly and entirely, as if Jeno is a wonder drug. (He probably is, considering the effects his presence brings Jaemin. Quite a wondrous boy. It’s almost like magic.)

Jeno grins at him and puts down his bowl. “Hey.”

Jaemin doesn’t want to, but his smile is automatic. “Hey.”

“Did you go home with Jisung earlier?” Jeno asks, pressing his torso on the sill and leans forward. Jaemin eyes him carefully, even though he knows Jeno won’t fall. Like him, Jeno is also not Mark.

“Yeah,” Jaemin replies in record time. “We bought ice cream.”

Jeno hums. “Fun stuff. Sorry I couldn’t make it. I always mess up so bad in Chem, I still wonder why I haven’t failed it since last year.”

“What did you do this time?” Jaemin asks, and he thinks back to the things that had happened during lunch break. How he’d felt, for one. It doesn’t make sense. Did he really feel like that? Did he really feel annoyed that Jeno couldn’t tell him _first_ about his Chem screw-up? That was weird. Those feelings seem so far away now that Jeno is here, talking to him in this warmly familiar, comfortable space that is the small gap between their bedroom windows.

“I used the wrong format for my August lab report,” Jeno responds, and he grins even wider as his eyes narrow into perfect crescents. Jaemin suddenly holds his breath – which also doesn’t make sense, since he’s seen Jeno’s smile countless of times already. He’s supposed to be _used_ to it. “And you know how nasty Mr. Kim is with formats. I can’t just let it go.”

“Ouch.” Jaemin actually winces, but Jeno just laughs again. “Did you manage to fix it?”

“Yeah, it’s fine now. Sacrificed lunch for it, but what was today’s menu? Chowder, right? Ha. Not exactly a loss.”

 _Not exactly a loss._ Why does that sound a little disappointing, somehow? Which is stupid, since Jeno is just saying that he doesn’t regret missing the food. Not Jaemin. Definitely not Jaemin. He must’ve missed Jaemin, but of course Jaemin isn’t going to ask that.

“You’re right,” he finally agrees, though his voice sounds a little dry. “Not a loss.”

Jeno suddenly stops smiling and leans onward even more. Jaemin raises an eyebrow, and begins to say, “You’ll fall,“ but Jeno just offers Jaemin his hand. When it’s been seconds and Jeno still doesn’t say anything or provide contexts, Jaemin frowns at him. “What?”

“Touch me, idiot, what else? You think I’m asking for money?”

Jaemin purses his lips. “Why,” he quietly demands, but he reaches out his hand to grab Jeno’s, anyway, and the moment Jeno’s slender fingers are wrapped around his, he doesn’t question anything anymore.

Here’s one thing about other people’s thoughts: they are overwhelming. Frustratingly so. Hearing mind-voices that aren’t his own is weird and disorienting, and often times, a torture. Hell, even hearing his own voice is weird, sometimes. The female classmate that had tapped his arm in Socio earlier, for example – the dizziness caused by her residual thoughts on his mind lasted for at least a minute, and it wasn’t a feeling he would ever get used to. Mark’s thoughts were better because he’s a familiar presence, and Jaemin actually _knows_ him, which means he was prepared to hear what Mark wanted to say. It still shocks him from time to time, though, especially if Mark (or the others, really) touches him without a warning.

But Jeno is something else.

The reason why Jaemin is so well-versed in Jeno’s thoughts is probably because he’s learned to read Jeno long before he could even read his mind via skin contact. He’s learned to read through Jeno’s mostly passive facial expressions, through the numbers of stupid arguments and childish fights they’ve had throughout the years, through the contentious things he’s said and the secrets they’ve shared behind closed doors or between these windows. He knows most things about Jeno like he knows the back of his own hand: too well, too detailed, and so much that it almost doesn’t make a difference that he can _actually_ read what he’s thinking now.

Jeno’s mind-voice is milder than his actual voice, but that barely matters. When his mind speaks, Jaemin isn’t overwhelmed, he isn’t disoriented, and he isn’t dizzy. He doesn’t get the intense desire to pull away or define limits, because with Jeno, he really doesn’t have them. Their connection is everlasting.

That’s really just it. They are boundless.

_Want to hang out tomorrow with Donghyuck?_

“Three of us?” Jaemin asks, a corner of his lips twitching up.

_Yeah. It’s been a while._

Jaemin hums. “I’ll text him later. Where?”

_My room. I have something to show you._

“If it’s another spider, I swear to all gods, Jeno Lee.”

Jeno bursts out laughing, with his actual voice. “Nooooo, Nana. It’s not a spider this time. But it _is_ an animal. A small one. It’s cute, believe me.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better? You know I don’t trust your judgement,” Jaemin says. Jeno’s fingers shake as he laughs again, softly loosening, and his unconscious feelings slightly fade from Jaemin’s skin. Jaemin grabs tight on Jeno’s hand again because he doesn’t feel like losing closure just yet.

It’s Jeno’s turn to raise an eyebrow this time, but Jaemin just smiles and shrugs, as if saying, “What can you do about this?”

“Just text Donghyuck for me,” is what Jeno says, but he also doesn’t let go of Jaemin’s hand. They stay there, fingers interconnected in the graceful autumn air as the sky darkens above them. Jaemin tries to concentrate harder so he can sense some more feelings that aren’t just speckled on the outer layers of Jeno’s consciousness – he searches somewhere deeper, trying to find something that Jeno doesn’t usually show, and it’s tough even if it’s Jeno and he’s known him for way too long to count. It’s tough, but he feels nothing off. He feels stability: wholehearted, modest, and conversant. He feels Jeno in his most unwavering shape.

Jeno is fine, and knowing that gives Jaemin relief.

“Are you seriously evaluating my emotional state right now?” Jeno asks a few seconds later, when Jaemin just stares blankly at his face while he focuses on reading Jeno’s state of mind. “That’s pretty freakin’ invasive.”

The word _invasive_ causes Jaemin’s index finger to twitch uncomfortably, because he feels like Jeno is right and he _is_ being intrusive, but there was no accusation in Jeno’s voice. No anger, no annoyance, nothing. Just earnest affection, and maybe a little curiosity. As always, Jeno seems to find the way Jaemin’s power works exciting. It’s an opinion Jaemin doesn’t share, but Jeno never cares.

“I just wanna make sure you’re doing okay,” Jaemin admits, a little dejectedly.

“I am doing okay. I just asked you to hang out with me. _And_ Donghyuck. I wouldn’t put myself in a one mile radius from Donghyuck if I wasn’t doing okay, Nana.”

“Okay, you have a point there.”

“Now can you let go please? I have to feed my friends,” Jeno says, tone playful, and Jaemin propels Jeno’s hand away from him with faux disgust. The guy just laughs (he laughs so fucking much) and pulls himself back into his room. “See you tomorrow?”

“See you, moon eyes,” Jaemin says, albeit a bit reluctantly, and Jeno smiles at him one last time before he pulls himself back and closes his window. He waves at Jaemin from behind the glass, all crescent eyes and toothy smile, then pulls down the blinds.

Jaemin sighs. He feels like he can hear Jeno calling for his cats through the walls of their houses, but slowly, his voice fades, too, just like the lingering thoughts on Jaemin’s palm.

 

 

It feels odd seeing Donghyuck standing outside of their school gate, with his usual black-red pullover jacket (hood up), sneakers, and well-worn jeans. He’s got one hand in his pocket and another shielding his eyes from the blinding sunlight as he eyes every student that walks past him, no doubt waiting for the two of them. Jaemin wonders quietly if some of these students actually recognize Donghyuck as the same person who had once gone to their school, wreaked havoc, created hell on earth, and then quitted by cursing the Spanish teacher and jumping down a two-story classroom.

Jeno, however, voices out exactly what has been going on inside of Jaemin’s mind for the last couple of minutes ever since he saw Donghyuck on the gate from the third-floor classroom window.

“Dude, it feels so _weird_ seeing you here.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up, do you think this was my idea?” Donghyuck snaps back, pulling down his hand to look derisively at Jeno. A look he’s specially reserved just for the Lees, if Jaemin’s being honest here. “Christ, you smell like a Calculus disaster.”

“How does one even _smell_ like Calculus?” Jaemin asks reasonably, shoving Donghyuck with his shoulder and pushing him back in greeting. “Also, this was your idea, whiz kid, don’t lie. I asked you to just wait at your house but you insisted on picking us up.”

“Busted,” Jeno says, smirking.

“Don’t expose me like that,” Donghyuck says. “Where’s Mark?”

“He’s not even trying to be lowkey,” Jeno comments from his place next to Jaemin, but he glances over his shoulder to check if Mark is around. He’s not. “I haven’t seen him since lunch, though. Maybe he’s still somewhere in the school. You wanna go in there and pick him up, too, Hyuck? Give your beloved Mr. Seo a greeting while you’re at it?”

Donghyuck grimaces. “Hell no.”

“Mr. Fully Capable Lee has club today,” Jaemin tells the both of them. “You picked the wrong day to come to school, Hyuck. He’s not gonna be home until five, at least, he takes EC very seriously.”

“More seriously than he’ll ever take you, maybe,” Jeno adds smartly, and he quickly shifts behind Jaemin to avoid Donghyuck when he pounces. This results in Donghyuck crashing against Jaemin, who steps back with a loud ‘hey!’ as he accidentally elbows Jeno in the chest.

Jeno groans, grabbing Jaemin’s shoulders by instinct, and for a second there Jaemin feels his head spinning because both Donghyuck _and_ Jeno’s thoughts are being transferred into him simultaneously. Their thoughts are unadulterated and rapid and intense, and he almost loses his balance. No matter how familiar their mind-voices are, he can’t just take them on without any preparation. Especially if it’s _Donghyuck_ ’s mind-voice, which is on a whole new level of zealous, and zealous is kind of the last thing Jaemin wants right now.

“Stop!” he shouts, when Donghyuck tries to step around him to grab Jeno, the latter dodging again with a loud jeer. “Stop it— _Donghyuck!_ —if you guys want to fight leave me out of it!”

“This goddamned—“ Donghyuck begins mouthing off strings of swear words, but Jeno just laughs again and pulls Jaemin back along with him, his back pressed against Jeno’s chest like a shield. Jaemin is actually impressed that Jeno manages to achieve such feat without losing his balance even once (if it was him, he would’ve fallen backward) but he’s Jeno. He does things like this. Plus, it’s not like Jeno gets awfully disorienting thoughts when people grab him so tightly by the shoulders?

(Jaemin takes back his awe, Jeno’s balance is unjustified.)

“I’ll _never_ get anywhere with you guys,” Jaemin complains, and he reaches back to grab Jeno’s wrist with one hand and Donghyuck’s with another. The excitement (Jeno) slash irritation (Donghyuck) is still intense, but Jaemin’s not Jaemin if he lets them conquer him that easily. “Can you save this for later, please? I really want to know what kind of animal Jeno’s been hoarding as of late.”

Jeno makes an offended hum. “It’s called saving lives, Nana, not hoarding.”

“What did you get yourself this time?” Donghyuck questions, narrowing his eyes suspiciously at Jeno, who is currently trying to shake his hand away from Jaemin’s. “This better be good, or else I’ll just go straight home.”

Jaemin knows Donghyuck didn’t mean that – he never means a lot of thing he says. Especially the scathing ones. Especially if it comes to _them_ , just the three of them like this. Not to mention just how much Donghyuck cooed at one of Jaemin’s puppies awhile back. He’s a softie who likes the pretend that he isn’t.

“I already have an idea of what it might be,” Jaemin says slowly, looking at Jeno now, who looks back at him with raised brows. “I just hope it’s not rabid.”

Jeno scoffs. “Okay, now that is offensive.”

“Invasive and offensive… kinda matches me well, don’t you think?” Jaemin asks, and Jeno grins at him with no ill intentions. For a second there, Jaemin loses his focus and his brain automatically tunes out everything else – excluding Jeno’s thoughts, who are still onto him, almost like a second skin.

 _I didn’t mean that one_ , he says. His eyes narrow a little, and Jaemin recognizes something akin to guilt in them now. It’s faint, but it’s there. _Did you take it to the heart?_

“But I was pretty invasive,” Jaemin replies.

 _You_ are _, but I don’t mind._ Jeno turns to look at Donghyuck, who has been staring at them holding hands (he’s holding Jaemin’s other hand, too, so Jaemin really doesn’t get what he’s mad about?) the way a cat would eye a dead mouse. “What?”

“Oh, no, I was just thinking. If you guys could stop flirting when I’m around that would be so great,” Donghyuck replies, shrugging. “Unless Jaemin wants to start flirting with me, too. Please, don’t leave me out of it. It looks fun.”

Jaemin smacks Donghyuck’s chest, though not too harshly. “It’s called _communicating_ , my love. Just because you and Mark talk like you guys can’t wait to kiss each other silly every damn time doesn’t mean me and Jeno are the same.”

Donghyuck scrunches his nose in disgust, but Jaemin notices that he isn’t denying anything. “I’m getting the same vibe, though?”

“Really now,” Jaemin says, in the most unimpressed tone he could muster. He turns to look at Jeno, who catches his gaze with wide eyes. “Do you think we talk like we can’t wait to kiss each other silly, Jen?”

He doesn’t realize what he’s saying until a sliver of memory – not his, but Jeno’s, though technically the memory is _theirs_ – crosses his mind in such a hasty haze that he almost misses it. Almost. For a second there he sees the crazily familiar interior of a well-lit bedroom, half-opened floral curtains, Jeno’s legs tangled with his; and then he feels the sizzling summer air, the thin fabric of his shirt pressing against his back with sweat, and Jeno’s hot palms on his face, and his—

Jeno pulls his hand back almost too quickly for Jaemin to notice. He does anyway, since the memory is abruptly cut off, and Jaemin immediately eyes Jeno, worried that his invasiness might’ve crossed the line after all this years. There’s no change of expression on Jeno’s face, and he looks just as unbothered as he usually does, but Jaemin knows he _knows_ what he’s just seen. He’s not sure how to feel about that.

“I don’t know,” Jeno then replies, and he accompanies this with a mild smile, which could be taken as either assuring or precarious, Jaemin can’t really decide. “What do you think?”

 _I think so_ , is what Jaemin really wants to say, and then: _I know so._

Because he _does_ know. That one memory Jeno thought of just confirmed it.

“Like,” Donghyuck graciously interrupts, lodging himself in between Jeno and Jaemin, brusquely pushing Jeno further away. “Can we just get back home and see Jeno’s new pet, please. I get it, I’m whipped for Mark and you guys are whipped for each other. Let’s get down to business now, yeah?”

 

 

Jaemin tries to remember when was the last time he visited Jeno’s room – probably last March, when all of them huddled together over a spread world map on the floor to circle around cities they wanted to go after they all graduate. But then he tries to think when was the last time he spent time with Jeno _alone_ , just the two of them. That one’s a little harder to narrow down, because evidently, aside from a lot of five-minutes conversation done in between bedroom windows throughout the day, they don’t really hang together in school, or after school, or anytime outside that.

Which is pretty sad now that Jaemin thinks about it, because they have been friends the longest.

“So this new friend of yours,” Donghyuck says, loud voice catching Jaemin’s attention and reeling him out of his reverie. The three of them are standing on the bottom step of the stairs leading up to Jeno’s bedroom. Donghyuck’s hand is still attached to Jaemin’s, but the younger has already grown so used to his active thoughts that he’s managed to tone Donghyuck’s mind-voice down for awhile now. “What kind of animal is it? It’s not just a lizard or anything, right? Because I’ll kill you. I’ll kill you and then I’ll take Jaemin home with me.”

Jeno scoffs. “It’s not a lizard. And you’re not allowed to take Jaemin anywhere without my permission.”

“It’s probably a snake,” Jaemin points out, ignoring the way his heart has leaped inside of his chest when Jeno said that questionably stingy (but delightful nevertheless!) line.

“I’m telling you, it’s not. The cage is not made for Jisung’s size, you know?” Jeno says, and his eyes crinkle yet again as he laughs at his own joke. Typical Jeno behavior.

“Did you just,” Jaemin says, tone flat, though he’s not really surprised. Jeno and Jisung’s alleged mutual dislike has always been a long-running gag.

Donghyuck stares at Jeno, also unimpressed. He gently detaches his hand from Jaemin’s. “If you ask me, Lee, your friend Jaemin here is more of a snake than Jisung Park will ever be, but whatever. Like babysitter like baby, I say.”

Donghyuck doesn’t have to, but he actually shows Jaemin (and Jeno too, apparently, judging from the way Jeno’s lips curl up) a memory of when a fourteen-years-old Jaemin threatened Donghyuck with the misused knowledge of who really broke the saucer of Donghyuck’s mother’s Noritake tea set on one fine spring day. Jaemin cringes at the memory, but Jeno just chuckles.

“Say what you want, but I know you love me,” he tells Donghyuck, leaning in closer with pursed lips to land an air kiss a few inches from Donghyuck’s cheek.

“Unfortunately,” Donghyuck replies, pushing Jaemin away from him with a scowl. Jaemin catches his thought before he did, though. Donghyuck _loves_ him. “Now Jeno. Where’s this snake?”

“Probably in his house across the street—“

“Christ, you never stop,” Jaemin groans, and Jeno laughs again. He shrugs and beckons them to follow him, freaking finally.

“C’mon, you’ll love him.”

“Oh, it’s a guy?”

“Yeah. No, wait. I mean, I’m not sure?” Jeno says, stopping midwalk to look at them with a confused frown.

Jaemin sighs. “It really doesn’t matter, Jeno.”

Jeno flicks his fingers in front of their faces. “You’re right, come on.”

Jaemin looks down and counts exactly fifteen steps to the top, as it has always been since years and years ago. It really has been awhile, but Jaemin still remembers every stupid little detail. In front of him, Jeno quietly opens the door, as if he doesn’t want to make any sudden noise.

The inside of Jeno’s room is just like how Jaemin has seen it last March: half-clean study desk, a couple of worn pullovers on the chair, and series of colorful shoes stationed under his bed. His blinds are down, and there’s a plastic bowl that Jaemin is painfully familiar with sitting on his windowsill, filled with gray and white pebbles. He also notices with a small, abrupt flick of fondness that Jeno’s bed is _still_ styled the same way as his: thick pillows, with unfolded blanket over the footboard, a corner of it flopping down to the floor. The whole room smells like a mix of wet ground and leaves and lemon, a scent which Jaemin has long associated with Jeno since he spends a lot of his time hunting for animals ( _friends_ , Jeno would remind him gently) in the woods.

Disgusting, really, to some extent, but Jaemin is used to it. At least Jeno himself doesn’t completely smell like mud. Jeno smells like soap, his warm living room, and Jaemin’s stupid infatuation.

Donghyuck stalks closer to the window and pulls up the blinds, which causes more lights to storm in and temporarily blinds them. He then looks down and spots the plastic bowl. “So you guys still do this, huh?”

“What do you mean _still_ , we never stopped,” is Jeno’s only answer. He bends down to examine a box next to his cupboard. That box turns out to be the cat cargo his mother often uses when she’s bringing their cat to the vet. Jeno makes a soft, purring sound at the cargo, much like how he’d try to get his cats’ attention.

“That’s not a cat, isn’t it?” Jaemin asks, suspicious. Not that he has anything against cats, but still. He doesn’t want to believe he went through the trouble of texting Donghyuck – lowkey threatening him to come, even – and walked all the way here just to see Jeno showcasing his new cat. Knowing Jeno, it might not entirely be a cat, though. Maybe a lynx cub or something.

“No,” Jeno says, glancing back over his shoulder to look at Jaemin with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “No, it’s not a cat. Not a lynx cub, too, if you’re wondering.”

“You can read my mind now?”

“Nah. Just an extremely precise guess,” Jeno says, and he slowly unlocks the door. “Huddle together, you idiots. Meet my new friend, Charmandee.”

Jeno reaches in his hand inside the cargo and pulls it back out again, only this time with a brownish creature holding onto his fingers. No, not just a random brownish creature – it’s a squirrel. It’s a small squirrel, so maybe it’s just a baby.

“Charmandee?” Donghyuck repeats, and although there’s an unmistakable disbelief in his voice at Jeno’s poor naming sense, Jaemin also notices that he’s somewhat enthralled by the way the squirrel looks at them, all tilted head and big eyes and small twitchy nose. Jeno shifts aside so he can give them a better look. “Charmandee as in… like, from Pokemon’s Charmander?”

“Yeah. Cute, right?” Jeno says, and Jaemin feels like an invisible hand has just squeezed his heart inside of his ribcage when Jeno smiles until his eyes vanish into crescents again. He looks so blissful, so _in love_ that it makes Jaemin weak on the knees. It’s over a damn squirrel, not _him_ , but whatever. Jeno’s happy. That’s what matters most. “Hyuck, do you want to hold him?”

“No,” Donghyuck replies in record time. “Full offense, my guy, but he totally looks like he bites. I don’t play with that.”

Jeno purses his lips. “He says he does.”

“What!”

“I’m just kidding,” Jeno quickly says, lowering his hand and gently caressing his thumb over Charmandee’s head. “I mean, he’s just kidding. He doesn’t really bite.”

“He doesn’t _really_ bite, huh,” Jaemin comments dryly. “Was that ‘really’ really necessary?”

“He didn’t bite me yesterday when I saved him from getting crushed under a tree log.”

“Yeah, because it’s _you_. You can talk to him. You can assure him you’re not a threat. We can’t.”

“I can assure him that you guys are not a threat,” Jeno tells him. Then his gaze flicks to Donghyuck. “Uh, maybe not you, Hyuck. He already thinks you smell dangerous.”

“That’s rude,” Donghyuck says. Then he shrugs. “But whatever. I also don’t want to touch him. The feeling’s mutual, you small mutt.”

“He’s a _squirrel_ ,” Jeno says in exasperation, but then he turns to Jaemin again and gestures at him to come closer. “Do you want to hold him? He thinks you’re pretty safe. Safer than Hyuck, at least.”

“Thank you so much, Jeno Lee, I needed that!”

“Sorry, Hyuck, but it’s not _my_ thought.”

“Can I, really?” Jaemin says, tipping his head to the side to meet Charmandee’s gaze, which has been carefully eyeing him for the last few seconds. His nose keeps twitching, as if he’s trying to decide whether Jaemin is a threat or not by his smell alone. What does Jaemin even smell like? He doesn’t know. “He’s not gonna bite me, right? I mean. Not that I’d mind, but I kinda have homework that’s due tomorrow.”

“Laaaaaaaaame,” Donghyuck says from his place near the windowsill. “Who still does homework at this day and age?”

“Us students who actually go to school, obviously,” Jeno replies, but he’s grinning, before he looks at Jaemin again. “Sure, Nana. He won’t bite. You smell like someone who likes animals just as much as I do.”

“I do,” Jaemin mutters, “Like animals just as much as you do.”

“I know that. Come here.”

Jaemin still isn’t very sure, but he’s not a coward, so he crouches next to Jeno and very carefully puts his hands up. Jeno’s shoulder presses against his as he bends a little forward to get Charmandee down his hand and onto Jaemin’s. The squirrel really is small, barely bigger than Jaemin’s palm, and he’s much lighter than Jaemin’s expected.

“Oh,” he murmurs, when Charmandee shifts from his fingers to his palm, soft claws grazing on his wrist. His voice comes out softer than he’d planned. “Oh, he’s so _small_.”

“I know, right?” Jeno says, grinning and putting one arm around Jaemin’s shoulders. Jaemin immediately sees it in Jeno’s mind, the day where he first found Charmandee – Jeno was following the fading thought of a hurting small animal on his walk home from school. He later found the squirrel stuck underneath a falling tree log, barely moving, probably just waiting for death. He feels Jeno’s panic that day as if it was his own, feels Jeno digging the dirt around the squirrel and moving mossy pieces of the wood, feels his warm relief as he held Charmandee to his chest and felt a vague beating heart under the thin fur.

“Aww,” Jaemin says, laughing a little, but his tone is very fond. He _is_ very fond of Jeno’s sensitivity.  Jeno stopped showing it publicly when he turned thirteen. “Did you cry when you thought he’d died?”

“I did _not_ ,” Jeno replies hastily. “Like okay, maybe I was getting teary-eyed. A bit. But he turns out fine! He’s healthy now, isn’t he? Can you read him?”

“I think so,” Jaemin says, and he blinks at Charmandee, who blinks at him back. Oh, how cute. “I mean, I can’t read non-humans, but he looks pretty healthy to me.”

“I can’t believe you guys fuss over a goddamn squirrel when someone cuter is standing literally right here,” Donghyuck interrupts loudly from behind them. Jeno laughs out loud and nearly knocks Jaemin over as he turns to give Donghyuck a thumbs up.

“We’ll humor you in a sec. Just give us a moment, okay?”

“I’ve _been_ giving you a moment,” Donghyuck continues, “But fine, whatever works.”

Jaemin cautiously puts Charmandee back on Jeno’s open hands, feeling the dry fur scrape against his knuckles one last time. Jeno makes that soft purring sound again, closes his eyes, and holds Charmandee close against his chest. Jaemin watches in a daze as Charmandee nuzzles back against Jeno’s neck, fidgety nails scraping on Jeno’s shirt lovingly.

“Jen,” Jaemin says without thinking. He doesn’t even realize what he’s saying, but this feels right for some reason he doesn’t understand. “You’re really cute like this.”

Jeno opens one eye and looks at Jaemin in mock disfavor. “It’s been seventeen years, and you only noticed that just now?”

“No,” Jaemin replies, grinning. “No, not really.”

(It’s true. He’s noticed for a long time, but Jeno doesn’t need to know that.)

“Guys,” Donghyuck calls out again, but this time he sounds less snappy. Jaemin’s ears perk up at the sudden change of his tone and he turns to look. “I think Jeno will have to put that mutt—“

“It’s a squirrel, Donghyuck.”

“—back in the cage, because our leader’s coming,” Donghyuck finishes without a fail, as if Jeno never spoke at all. He has opened the window and is now leaning over the sill, narrowing his eyes to see better at something in the distance. “Not that I’m admitting he’s our leader or anything, because we are an independent, liberal group of friends, but my point is: Mark’s coming.”

“What? Why would he be here?” Jaemin asks. He leaves Jeno and moves to the window, where he squeezes himself next to Donghyuck while the latter just lets out a scoff. He looks outside and realizes that Donghyuck is right: Mark is standing in front of Jisung’s house, seemingly in an argument with Renjun about something. Chenle is nowhere to be seen, but Jaemin soon spots his shoes on the doormat of Jisung’s porch. The gang’s here.

Mark suddenly notices that Jaemin and Donghyuck are looking at them from Jeno’s window and he stops talking with Renjun. “Yo!” he calls out, lips splitting in a big smile. “What’s up? Wait, is that you, Hyuck? What are you doing here?”

“What are _you_ doing here?” Jaemin shouts back before Donghyuck could answer. Not hard to do, since Donghyuck is too busy recollecting his breaths. “You said you have EC today.”

“I do,” Mark says, but then he shrugs. His grin widens even more. “But I’m ditching.”

Donghyuck pulls himself back from the window, hiding himself from Mark’s view, and smacks Jaemin’s arm so hard that he yells. His movement was too fast for Jaemin to feel his thoughts too thoroughly, but Donghyuck’s excitement is visible enough without any kind of psychometry required.

“Oh my god, am I hearing this right? Mark Lee’s _ditching_ club activities?” Donghyuck whispers, fingers fidgeting on the windowsill. “That Mark Lee? Our Mark Lee?”

“ _Your_ Mark Lee, thank you very much,” Jaemin mumbles wryly, still rubbing the spot where Donghyuck has hit him with a wince. “Don’t be that surprised, your boy’s not some sort of teacher’s pet.”

“I know, but you said he takes EC seriously!”

“I did, and he does, but that doesn’t mean he can’t ditch,” Jaemin simply says, and he shrugs before leaning out of the window again. Mark has now crossed the street and is climbing over the fence between Jeno and Jaemin’s house. Renjun is staying behind, still reading from where he stands in front of Jisung’s gate. “What’s wrong, Mark?”

“Nothing,” Mark says, and he looks up at Jaemin. His dark brown hair sheens under the 3 PM sunlight, and his blue shirt is left untucked ( _which is a rare sight,_ Donghyuck later remarks, _but not exactly a bad sight_ ). “Renjun saw us hanging at the industry lot, so why not make it happen?”

“Really,” Jaemin says, and he can’t help but to make his voice sound drier than he plans to, because really? That’s why? “That’s why you’re here? Because Renjun saw us doing something?”

“He’s right, though. We haven’t been there since last year,” Mark says. He is now standing right under Jeno’s window, hands in his pockets, and Jaemin grabs Donghyuck by the back of the neck like he would to a kitten and forces him to show his face (he has been spending his time cursing at Mark behind Jaemin for the last few seconds). “Hi, Donghyuck.”

Donghyuck chokes first, but he manages to say, “What’s up, loser?”

Jaemin frowns at him and jabs his side. “Lord be with you, you helpless child.”

“What? This is how Mark and I address each other. Right, Mark?”

Mark snorts, but he shrugs. “I guess.”

Jeno suddenly squashes himself in between Donghyuck and Jaemin, pushing them both away from each other and looks down. “Did I hear someone mention the industry lot just now?”

“Yeah, that nerd downstairs just did,” Donghyuck mutters.

“Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go!” Jeno exclaims, and he shakes Jaemin and Donghyuck’s arms impatiently before stepping back to change his shirt. Jaemin follows his movement insentiently and catches a sliver of white back before he awkwardly flicks his gaze somewhere else. Which is _weird_ , since he’s seen Jeno’s body too many times to count to get awkward, but he does. Somewhat.

“What’s he so excited for?” Donghyuck asks Jaemin, though unlike him, he’s still staring at Jeno and quite possibly his naked back. Jaemin tries not to think about it too much. He has no reason to, anyway.

Jaemin sighs. “The frog pond.”

“Ah.”

The frog pond is Jeno’s favorite spot in the whole abandoned industry lot that they frequent often during their after school free-times. It’s a big, fishless green pond located at the backyard of the building, with dry patches of grass and small red-orange florets which species Jaemin can’t identify (neither can Renjun, who is a self-proclaimed flower specialist) around it. It’s _infested_ with frogs, and not just the usual brown and green ones, but also occasionally ones with strange, vibrant colors. Dangerously vibrant colors.

(“You know colorful frogs are poisonous, right?” Jaemin asked Jeno once, the first time they discovered the pond, when the latter cooed over a bunch of strange-colored frogs on the other side of the water. Jaemin actually held Jeno’s arm in case he’d lost all judgement and decided to catch them. “Absolutely, definitely do _not_ touch them.”

“I know,” Jeno said, and he was even whining, for god’s sake. “But they’re pretty.”

Jaemin would very much like to remind Jeno that he’d once told Jaemin that _his_ eyes were the prettiest thing Jeno had ever seen, but he didn’t.)

“I’ll see you guys downstairs,” Donghyuck says, and he waves dismissively at Jaemin before brushing past him and Jeno toward the door. Jaemin knows he either really wants to see Mark before any of them does, or maybe he just gets the intermittent need to leave Jaemin alone with Jeno sometimes. Donghyuck doesn’t look like it, but he’s sharp. Sharper than Mark or Jisung, at least.

He sighs and leans out of the window again. “Donghyuck’s going down to get you,” he tells Mark, who shoots up his thumb – though technically it’s _Mark_ who’s getting _them_ , but whatever. Jaemin just wants some more time to waste before he has to turn around and face Jeno – and the upcoming memory, again.

Jeno is crouching next to the cat cargo once more, trying to persuade Charmandee into getting inside. Jaemin wonders if he can make it to the door without talking to him at all, or will it be too weird?

Before he can decide, though, Jeno catches his gaze, his dark eyes ready and crinkling – the same way they had looked in the summer two years ago, and Jaemin kind of loses his focus. Again. Damn, Jeno really makes him a mess.

 _If we were in_ my _room_ , he thinks, _this would feel so much worse._

But Jeno’s room is very much similar to his, so much that even the placing of furnitures is almost exactly the same, and Jaemin can remember the day _it_ happened just as well as he can remember his own name. They were sitting on the floor right next to the bed – his bed, but still – and it was a hot day (today is not) but the bright, full rays of sun filling the room is unerringly the same, and the way Jeno looks at him right now is also the same, and the way Jaemin feels at this exact moment is also the same as how he’d felt when Jeno had proposed for them to—

“What’s that look for?” Jeno asks, interrupting his train of thoughts and smiling at him, after Charmandee has gone inside the cargo and he’s locked the door. He wipes his hand on his jeans and stands up, still keeping Jaemin’s gaze gamely.

“What look?” Jaemin asks, though he can pretty much guess.

“You look… distressed.” Jeno said the word _distress_ with a gentle lull in his voice, and Jaemin inhales. “Which isn’t really uncharacteristic, considering your… mystic touch, but I’ve never seen you wear that look when you’re with _me_. Me, of all people.”

It embarrassingly takes Jaemin more than a second to form a coherent reply, because Jeno is right, and the fact that he’s right is disturbing him more than it should.

“I am distressed,” Jaemin finally admits, and he feels his left eye twitch in discomfort yet again, just like yesterday. “But it’s nothing major.”

Lies. It is something major.

“Really?”

 _No_ , Jaemin wants to say, but of course he doesn’t. Instead, he just smiles and points at Jeno’s rolled-up sleeves.

“You haven’t done that since ninth grade. Cute.”

 

 

“You know,” Donghyuck starts, when all seven of them slide down the hill toward the certain part of the metal fence that they’ve always climbed over from, Mark’s loud _ouch_ becoming the background voice of his announcement as he hits a low-hanging branch with his forehead, “At this point in time, considering we’ve been here for like, fifty times already, I wonder why we don’t just break the lock.”

“And how do you suggest we do that?” Jeno asks, taking his time going through every bush that they’re passing by. Jaemin supposes he’s looking for more lizards.

(“Reptiles are weird,” Jeno once said, when Chenle asked him why Jeno didn’t seem to catch a lot of lizards for someone who can admittedly communicate with animals. “They’re a little harder to talk to, and I can’t understand them well. They’re like… the Renjun of the animalia kingdom.”

“Excuse me?” Renjun whipped up his head from the book he was reading, giving Jeno the dirtiest, most offended glare a Renjun could ever muster. Jaemin remembers he laughed really hard at Renjun’s face at the time.

“I’m just kidding. I understand you well enough, Injun.”)

Jisung is the one who answers. “Mark.”

“Exactly,” Donghyuck immediately confirms. “Mark can be useful for once.”

“Okay, first of all,” Mark says, still rubbing the pink spot on his forehead on where he’s rammed it against the tree branch earlier, “That is offensive, Donghyuck. I _am_ useful. I take care of you all. I make sure you’re not tripping over holes and break your nose, save your stuff from falling off the table—“

There’s almost immediately a collective sigh.

“But isn’t tripping over holes is like, your thing?” Chenle asks.

“—take out the trash for you. Second of all, I’m not doing that. I’m not gonna use my power to commit crimes.”

Jaemin, who promised himself that he was going to keep quiet lest he make things worse, can’t help but to let out an exasperated, “We’ve been breaking into a prohibited government property for the last five years. It’s a little too late for that, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, but this is different. Climbing over the fence is, I don’t know, more explicable? If we ever get caught, we’ll get away easy because they’d think it’s just what kids do.”

“I’m a teenager,” Jisung murmurs, but Chenle shushes him.

“So long as we don’t mention the ‘been doing this for the last five years’ part,” Mark continues. They are now walking toward their usual climbing spot, half-hidden behind a sequioa, sheltered from the heat and light. “But if we break the lock at the front gate, we’re dead. We’re seriously dead.”

“Fine,” Donghyuck says, and he huffs, hooking his fingers on the net. He turns to look at Mark, who is now staring at him. “Fine, Mark. We can just climb the fence, and you can just make sure you don’t fall over face-first.”

“When have I ever done that?”

“You have yet to try,” Jaemin carefully tells him, “But I’d rather you not.”

Donghyuck lets out a scoff, and puts one foot on the fence. “Seriously though. I can’t do first-aid for shit, so you all better refrain from getting hurt.”

Chenle snorts. “Cute, but what makes you think we’d come to you first if we get hurt?”

Jaemin laughs out loud along with the Mark and Jisung. “You know, kid’s got a point.”

“You know what? I take back what I said, I hope you guys fall over face-first,” Donghyuck yells. He climbs up the fence and jumps over the top in one quick stride, before landing on the other side on his feet gracefully, just like a cat. Jaemin is grudgingly reminded of the day Jisung told him that ‘Donghyuck just jumped down from the second-floor classroom, oh my god!’ and wonders if he’d done it like this too back then. “Better yet, I hope you trip over nothing and break your nose.”

“Wow, Hyuck. That’s too many bad wishes in one minute,” Jeno says, and Jaemin feels his shoulder bumping against him as he brushes past him and Mark to get to the fence. After years of doing this, it has become some sort of a set order, to have Donghyuck jump over first and then Jeno, since they’re both the best climbers. Why it’s like that, Jaemin has never bothered to find out. He always climbs last, anyway, in case any of these stupid kids gets stuck on the fence or something. It’s more likely than one would think.

Donghyuck exclaims from the other side, “Shut the hell up, Jeno!”

Jeno lets out a light cackle before he begins to climb. If Donghyuck’s quick and nimble like a cat, Jeno is much, much more wary. Maybe that’s because he _did_ fall face-first once, when he and Jaemin first tried to climb over the fence between their houses many years ago (one of Jaemin’s favorite childhood memories), so he’s kind of traumatized. Jeno climbs like a gecko (Jisung’s word, not Jaemin’s), because there’s always a time when he pauses for awhile to calculate where should he put his foot next, or which leg should he sling over the top first.

Jaemin just thinks it’s cute. Most things Jeno does are, but yeah.

When Jeno has safely landed next to Donghyuck on the other side, Jaemin turns to look at Mark. “It’s your turn,” he says, shrugging. “As always, in case you slip, Donghyuck and Jeno should be able to help you.”

“He can save himself!” Donghyuck yells.

“He’ll save you for sure, you know he’ll do that,” Jaemin says again, rolling his eyes. “Come on, Mark.”

“It’s weird because we’ve been doing this for such a long time and I’m still nervous,” Mark comments, but he doesn’t waste too much time climbing up. He’s definitely getting better over the years. Then again, he does climb the tree often to get to Donghyuck’s roof, so his growth is not that surprising.

Donghyuck, despite what he said, offers up his hand to Mark when the older gets on the top of the fence. Jaemin tactfully looks away and meets Jisung’s eye, before they both shrug simultaneously and hold back a laugh. _What can we do_ is written all over his face. Or probably it’s: _ah, he’s so whipped it’s not even funny anymore._ Jaemin silently agrees.

Next in order are Jisung and Chenle, who have also somewhat become better climbers. Jisung never had any trouble to begin with, and Chenle’s only problem is his sometimes uncontrollable self-doubt. Then it’s Renjun, who immediately stuffs his book back inside of his backpack the moment Chenle starts climbing. All this time while they were busy bickering over dumb nothing, Renjun was apparently too busy reading to care. What an absolute nerd.

“I’m still not used to this,” he tells Jaemin in a low voice, as if he doesn’t want the others to hear. He probably doesn’t. Jaemin relates. “You’ll watch my back, right?”

“Why do you think I’m always the last to climb over?” he tells him, patting him on the arm and pushing him toward the fence. He can feel that Renjun _is_ nervous. “To keep you safe, that’s why.”

Renjun smiles a little. “Right.”

But it turns out Jaemin doesn’t have anything to worry about. Renjun is a slow climber, but he’s much like Jeno in term of wariness. He doesn’t miss. When he’s securely gotten himself to the other side of the fence, with Mark and Chenle holding each of his hands (“You’re a spoiled child,” Donghyuck comments, even though there’s no jab in his tone), Jaemin climbs.

“Free of duty,” he declares, as he jumps down from the top. He straightens himself and looks, coincidentally, at Jeno, who gives him a small smile. “At least until later.”

“Good work, mom,” Donghyuck says, bumping his fist against Jaemin’s arm. “Let’s go.”

The walk to the building is quite long, but after five years, it doesn’t feel that way anymore. Jisung and Jeno keep bumping their shoulders against each other and squabbling (Jisung started it, undoubtedly, but Jeno’s pretty petty himself), while Mark treads a little behind Donghyuck and Renjun. Jaemin is looking around as he walks even though he’s memorized everything in this place already: the coarse dirt, the thin trees, the ungodly amount of dry leaves on the ground, and even the occasional flap of bird wings when they move from one branch to another. It’s still eerie, this place, but it has become some sort of a second home for them, so that eeriness is welcomed.

“Frog pond!” Jeno exclaims, when they cross the backyard. Jaemin stops to watch Jeno eye the pond intently, at the calm surface of green water and familiar red-orange florets around it.

“Now?” Jaemin can’t help but to ask, exasperated.

Jeno just laughs and looks away. “Nah. They’re not here. I can feel it,” he says, shrugging. “Maybe tomorrow. Or next week. I’m here for my human friends today.”

“That’s good, because I was seriously ready to push you into it,” is Donghyuck’s honestly clever ass response. They stop in front of one of the dusty windows, from where they always enter the building. It’s locked from the inside. “Jisungie, do your thing.”

Jisung hums. He murmurs a small “okay” before he disappears with a soft _pop_ , and emerges on the other side of the window. He grins at them and knocks his knuckles on the glass, before he unlocks the deadbolt, and opens the window.

“Welcome to my humble home,” he says, and he steps back so Donghyuck can jump over the sill, followed by Mark.

“Ugh, I forgot how dusty this place really is,” Chenle comments, when he steps down to the floor. “Maybe we should’ve brought a broom.”

“Remind me next time,” Jaemin says as he hoists himself up. “I really will bring a broom.”

“You know,” Mark suddenly says, as he looks around, his voice echoing in the dark, empty room. “We should spend the night here sometimes. Next Friday, what do you say?”

“Hey, Markie. Listen,” Donghyuck deadpans. “Jaemin and Chenle literally just talked about how filthy this place is, and your first thought is for us to hold a sleepover? In said filthy place? You outta your mind?”

“Well, we can clean it,” Jeno says. He’s staying still from where he’s perched on the windowsill, blocking some of the sunlights from coming in and lighting the room. “And we can just sleep on old blankets or something.”

“I fear for my back,” Jisung says, and Jaemin cackles, because same.

Mark turns to Renjun. “Is this happening? Please tell me they all just love to harass me and that they’ll end up agreeing to my idea anyway. Sleepovers are _neat_. We’re not really friends if we haven’t done a sleepover. Right? Right?”

“Mark Lee, my man, I just supported you,” Jeno kindly reminds him, but Mark doesn’t seem to pay him any mind.

Renjun scrunches his nose, as if it pains him just to try and see if they’re really going to spend one night here in this creepy, filthy place. “Yeah, it’s happening.”

“Yes!”

“Okay, but we are _not_ sleeping on just blankets,” Jaemin interrupts. “Have you all ever slept on the floor before? You haven’t, right? I have, and I know what that means. It means bruises. A lot of them. I’m not down for that, thank you very much.”

“Dear lord,” Renjun says, and he leans back on the nearest wall, backpack crushed underneath his body. “I wouldn’t fancy that, either.”

“Do you all not know that sleeping bags _exist_ ,” Mark says, clearly frustrated, putting one hand on his hip and rubbing his forehead with the other. “I have two, even. Taeyong has another two. Just don’t expect me to bring all four by myself.”

“What, did you camp often while you were in Canada?” Donghyuck suddenly asks, looking up from his place on the ground next to Chenle. Jaemin spots real, rare curiosity painted on his face, but Mark probably doesn’t.

“Yeah. Taeyong hiked a lot back then. Sometimes I’d tag along.”

“Wow, that’s… unexpected of him,” Donghyuck comments bluntly. “That Taeyong? Your art student Taeyong?”

“I know, right.”

“Can we share all four between seven people?” Jaemin inquires.

“Yeah, I think. We can just spread them open and use them like a big ass carpet. Sleeping bags are thick, man.”

“Thank god, that’s just much better than just blankets,” Renjun remarks. Then he pauses, face vacant for a second, before he goes back to scrunching his nose again. “Okay, it’s much clearer now. We are sleeping on Mark’s sleeping bags.”

Jeno shrugs. “Eh, if Injun sees it then it’s pretty much happening.”

Jaemin tilts his head slightly to the side, eyeing Jeno’s form from his peripheral vision. Jeno has come down from the sill and is now leaning against the wall next to the window, dusting his pants with one hand.

It’s not what bothers Jaemin. It’s how Jeno sounded so… trusting just now. Not that everyone doesn’t believe in the accuracy of Renjun’s visions, but when Jeno is the one who shows it, it’s sending unfamiliar bitterness down Jaemin’s throat.

Weird, really. And extremely ridiculous, so Jaemin ignores it.

Donghyuck finds a dry piece of wood on the floor and throws it at Jaemin’s feet. “So. Anyone got cards?”

 

 

Jaemin pretends he doesn’t notice Jisung giving them a suspicious stare before he slips back into his house, the front door slowly closing behind him. When Jaemin’s very sure Jisung is out of earshot, he turns to look at Jeno and says, “You’ve got leaves on your hair.”

“Really?” Jeno says, and he brushes his hand over his head, trying to find said leaves. “Must be from when I dived through the bushes.”

“You are something else,” Jaemin says with a sigh, and he steps a little bit closer, more than they already are, to pick a leaf from Jeno’s dark strands. Then another. “Are you really older than me? Sometimes I question that.”

“Age has nothing to do with having fun,” Jeno says with a smirk, and Jaemin makes the mistake of looking down to catch his gaze. He doesn’t plan it to, but his throat suddenly feels very arid. Weird. “You should try it sometimes. There are a lot of interesting things in the bushes. Not just lizards.”

“You’re like an animal,” Jaemin comments, flicking the leaf away from his hand. “And I prefer to keep myself clean, thank you very much.”

Jeno laughs. “Oh please,” he says, when he’s done laughing.

Then he leans in closer, face suddenly so close to Jaemin’s, and Jaemin instinctively steps back because his heart (which has been in an unsafe state since the last few seconds with Jeno alone) takes yet another leap inside of his chest and he feels like choking. Super weird. And super embarrassing! What is he _even_ doing?

Plus, Jeno’s thick eyelashes are _really_ distracting. Jaemin wants to look away, but he can’t, or else Jeno will notice that there really has been something off with him today. But like, can he not be this close? His heart rate has decided to go up the roof and it’s kinda troubling him here.

“Nana, your ear is bleeding,” Jeno abruptly declares, and he reaches out his hand to wipe something from the shell of Jaemin’s right ear. The soft jolt of his worried thoughts pass through Jaemin’s skin, like a gentle afterthought. He then shows his thumb to Jaemin, and he’s right, there’s a smudge of red on it. Jaemin blinks. “Did you hit your head somewhere? Oh god, does it hurt?”

“What?” Jaemin says blankly, and he touches his own ear. Jeno is right; a spot in his lobe feels a little prickly. He wouldn’t even notice if Jeno hadn’t pointed it out. “I don’t remember—what?”

“The tree branch,” Jeno decides, as he wipes more blood off Jaemin’s ear. It doesn’t really hurt that much, anyway, and Jeno’s hand feels nice, but Jaemin wishes so badly that Jeno will stop.

 _You must’ve scratched it on a branch earlier,_ he tells him in Jaemin’s mind.

Jaemin’s brain plays back the memories of what happened while they were going back from the lot. When he was climbing over the fence (last as per usual), he accidentally hit his head on the looming tree branch (it sucks being so tall). It only scraped him lightly, and it missed his eye completely, so he didn’t pay it much attention.

Now he does.

“Well,” he says, “So much for me saying that I won’t ever be as clumsy as Mark is.”

Jeno laughs again. “Nah, if it was Mark, he wouldn’t have just scratched his ear.” His hand leaves and Jaemin can finally breathe easy again. Jeno fishes something out of his pocket, and hands it to Jaemin. “There you go.”

“A Band-Aid?” Jaemin says, after he examines what Jeno has just put on his hand. He somehow manages to make his voice sound as unimpressed as possible. “Really? You’re telling me to put a Band-Aid on my fucking ear? How am I supposed to do that, even?”

“It’s the thought that matters,” Jeno says lightly, shrugging. “Go home and treat that.”

“My home is right here. _You_ go home.”

“Shit, you’re right,” Jeno says, and he grins again. “See you tomorrow, I suppose. Or if we don’t see each other at school, see you at the lot.”

“Jeno Lee, we literally live next to each other,” Jaemin says impatiently. “Our bedroom windows are exactly one meter apart. They have been like that for the last fifty years or so, before we were even born. What are you saying?”

“I know, right,” Jeno says, and then he pats Jaemin’s arm. “See you, Nana.”

“Go home, you weirdo,” Jaemin says, and he watches as Jeno stumbles on the sidewalk to get to his own home. When he has disappeared after another wave of his hand, Jaemin sighs and rubs his ear again. It doesn’t hurt anymore, but he swears he can feel the heat from Jeno’s fingers staying on his skin almost too persistently.

Weird. Really weird.

Then again, everything is weird as of late.

 

 

It takes a lot more than a few tries to try and get the sleeping bags over the high fence. Donghyuck has lost his patience a long time ago, and Jaemin made him sit out the whole program since he was getting too mouthy and they don’t really need him to pick fights with Mark every few minutes or so. They can’t just make Jisung carry all four bags and teleport, since it would weigh him down a lot, neither can they tell him to move back and forth with one or two bag at a time. Jaemin insists it would still be too much of a burden for his body.

(“But I _can_ ,” Jisung tried to assure them (only Jaemin, really). “I really can. Nana, I can do five in one minute now, remember?”

“Yeah, no,” Jaemin said anyway. Mark and Jeno didn’t even try to interfere; they smartly stayed out of it. “Even if it’s not that far of a jump, I’d rather do this manually.”

“You make me look useless.”

“I _am_. And keeping you safe and bloodless at the same time. What can you do about it? Just step back and help me.”)

Renjun finds a solution a few minutes after it’s gotten dark and after they’ve gotten tired of trying to chuck the bag one by one by throwing them over the fence (and failing miserably everytime).

“Someone with good hands should climb up to the top and stay there,” Renjun suggests, “And we throw them the bag. Then they can safely drop the bag to the other side.”

“Huang Renjun,” Mark says, in a very thrilled tone. “I have never been happier having you as my friend.”

Renjun scrunches his nose. “You mean you were never happy being my friend before this? We’re over.”

“Okay,” Donghyuck interrupts, and Jaemin tries to hide a smile when he so not-so-accidentally chooses to get up from the rock he’s been sitting on and place himself in between Mark and Renjun, effectively pushing them away from each other. “This is my calling.”

“Go then,” Jeno says. “Nobody’s stopping you.”

Donghyuck climbs up after flipping Jeno off one time. When he already reaches the top, Jisung grabs the nearest sleeping bag and with one precise aim that is seriously frightening, flings it straight into Donghyuck’s open hands. With a muffled grunt, Donghyuck catches it. He falters a little on his perching spot, causing both Mark and Jaemin’s breath to hitch, but then he drops it down and gestures for them to give him the next one. He grins at them apologetically.

“Damn, if you’d fallen back then, I’d run back to town and pretend you never even existed,” Mark says.

Jaemin stares at Mark. “Literally what the hell, Mark.”

“What? You want to get blamed for his death? You’re on your own.”

“Nobody’s dying, shut up!” Donghyuck yells. “Let’s continue, alright? It’s getting dark, my dudes.”

Within five minutes, all four sleeping bags have safely changed sides (quite literally). Once everyone has climbed over, they go straight for the building. It’s Mark’s turn to open the window this time, and everyone watches silently as he taps his knuckle on the glass and the bolt just slides right off almost immediately.

“I don’t know why you won’t do this more often,” Donghyuck says. “It’s very practical. Very cool, too. Saves us a lot of time.”

“You know why,” Mark replies, when Donghyuck pulls the window open and climbs in. “It’s pretty tiring, and I don’t want to rely too much on it.”

“That’s actually a very valid reason,” Jaemin says. “At least Mark’s responsible.”

Donghyuck sticks his head out from the window. “Hey, bro, you insinuating that I’m not?”

“Well, your power doesn’t really require you to have much responsibility,” Jaemin says, shrugging and chucking the sleeping bag he’s been holding right into Donghyuck’s hands. The older swats it aside, and it makes a soft thud as it hits the dusty floor. Mark groans out a “you’re cleaning that yourself later!” but Donghyuck ignores him. “Just a lot of self-control, maybe. And morals.”

“You’re not wrong, so I’m letting you off easy now,” Donghyuck says after a pause, narrowing his eyes at Jaemin before he picks up the sleeping bag and gets away from the window.

“It’s a shame none of us are a pyrokinetic,” Chenle says later, after they (Mark, mostly) have spread out the sleeping bags on the floor and set up the emergency lamp right at the center of the dim room (“I can’t believe you guys always make me do all the work around here. I told you many times before I don’t want to rely too much on my power, and yet here I am, getting used by you all.” “Stop your bitching and get back to work, Canada. We’re waiting.”). Their backpacks are aligned messily on each of their sleeping spots that they’ve decided on earlier.

“Let me bet, you’re thinking about making a bonfire, aren’t you?” Donghyuck asks.

“Well, yeah.”

“We can’t, idiot. We’re indoors.”

“That’s the least of my worries, actually,” Jaemin chimes in. “Even if we were making one here—no we’re not, Chenle—Mark’s sleeping bags would get burned off sooner or later.”

Donghyuck’s jaw drops as he stares at Jaemin. “What do you mean that’s the _least_ of your worries, we could literally _die_ from suffocation—“

“Taeyong will kill us,” Mark interrupts lightly. “Unless you’re ready for that, which I am certainly not, no bonfire.”

“But what if we get cold at night?” Chenle inquires. “I know it’s pretty warm now, but season change is just around the corner. What if it rains later?”

The rest of them concurrently turn to look at Chenle, who’s still staring at them blankly, expecting answers, or suggestion, or maybe even support.

“Uh, Chenle,” Jisung finally says, a little softly, as if he’s talking to a small, scared child. He kinda is even if Chenle’s older by a few months. “A friendly reminder that we have you?”

Chenle frowns. “So?”

“You’re our human heater, kid,” Donghyuck chimes in. “We can all just sleep close to you. Plus, we’ve brought our own blankets, too. It’s not like we’re gonna freeze to death here.”

“But I’m… there’s only one of me.”

Jaemin coos. “We don’t mind sharing.”

Chenle finally sits back down, defeated. “Fine.”

“I’ve brought cards this time,” Mark says, and he reaches inside of his bag next to Jisung’s to get the thing he’s been looking for. He pulls out a pack of playing cards and throws it to the center. “And Monopoly, but considering the shitstorm that kicked up last time, I’d rather not.”

“We all know who really caused said shitstorm,” Jeno says, clearly asking for a fight. “They’re sitting right there.”

He didn’t say even one name, or point a finger, but both Donghyuck and Jisung perk up immediately.

“Listen here, Jeno,” Donghyuck begins heatedly, while Jisung splutters out, “At least I didn’t cheat!”

“Okay, don’t start,” Mark says, effectively interrupting Donghyuck as he starts fiddling with the cards. “Let’s let bygones be bygones.”

“Easy for you to say, you weren’t on the receiving end of Hyuck’s claws that time,” Jeno continues, and he pulls his sleeve up to show a fading set of three scratches on his forearm. Both Jaemin and Mark wince, while Donghyuck just snorts.

“You sure that was me and not Charmandee?”

“Okay, you got me. This was Charmandee’s work. Yours was here,” Jeno says, and he flips his arm to show them the underside. It’s fading, but Jaemin knows it’s there – the soft marks on where Donghyuck had accidentally scratched Jeno last month. He knows because whenever he holds Jeno’s arm, he feels them under his fingers – Donghyuck’s feats. “Dude, cut them. You’re gonna kill someone one day.”

Donghyuck lifts up his hand, lengthy nails on display. “No way. I’m honoring Ms. Bae this way, y’know? Since she never likes it when boys keep their nails long.”

Jaemin breathes out a shaky laugh. “I’m not sure that’s what I’d normally call _honoring_ , but alright, Hyuck.”

“So are we playing or not?” Mark interrupts, shuffled cards in one hand. He eyes them all expectantly. “Or are we gonna go to war again? Let me take out the Monopoly then.”

At that moment, Renjun decides that he’s had enough of sitting upright and drops himself on his side. “Can we do something that doesn’t involve too much body movement?” he asks, his face half-squashed on the thick material of the sleeping bag they are all sitting on.

“Sure we can,” Donghyuck says. “I’m bored of cards, anyway.”

Mark sighs. “Any other idea, Your Majesty?”

“Truth or dare,” Jisung suddenly says, shifting on his seat. “Because you’ll need a lot of information to blackmail someone, y’know.”

A pause.

“Jisung,” Jaemin says, a little slowly. “That’s… that’s very honest of you.”

“Your true nature is showing,” Jeno remarks.

“You’re planning to overtake Donghyuck soon or what?” Mark asks.

Jisung makes a noncomittal hum and shrugs, which basically means _yes_.

“But I’m not going outside for a dare,” Renjun says immediately. “I’m not moving an inch from where I am now. Mark, this is actually pretty comfy, do you think Taeyong will mind if I ask him to switch my mattress with this?”

“Yes, shut up,” Mark says. “Also, we can just limit the locations for the dare. We don’t have to go anywhere.”

“We should just go around then, no need for rock-paper-scissor,” Donghyuck says, and he turns to elbow Mark in the chest. The older winces. “Markie, truth or dare?”

“Why me first?” he protests.

“Because this was all your idea, smartass. C’mon, truth or dare?”

“Uh… dare.”

“Why, do you have something to hide from us?” Jaemin teases, and he stretches his fingers menacingly at Mark. “You know it’s useless anyway, right? I can just find out later.”

Mark lets out a desperate wail and leans away from Jaemin. “Wait, the fact that _he_ exists make this whole game invalid and unfair!”

“Jaemin, stand down. Mark… I dare you to bring my backpack over here.”

Mark whines again, but he starts to get up and reaches for Donghyuck’s bag. But then the younger grabs him by the back of his shirt and pulls him back down to his original sitting spot. “Without touching it,” Donghyuck finishes sweetly, and Mark splutters.

“This isn’t a dare, this is just you ordering me around.”

“Yeah, I see no difference from the usual,” Jeno comments. “But just do it, Mark. It’s a pretty easy dare.”

Mark scowls, but he finally makes a sharp, whittling gesture with his hand, and Donghyuck’s backpack smoothly slides across the ground right into its owner’s hands. Donghyuck lets out a small laugh as he hugs his backpack, just like a child. Jaemin truly wonders if he’s genuinely happy because Mark never refuses him, or if it’s just something else.

“Niceeee, Mark Lee,” he says. “Thanks a lot!”

Mark rolls his eyes. “Screw off.”

“You know I can’t do that.”

“We know you can’t ever get off Mark’s back, let’s end it there,” Jaemin interrupts, putting his hand on Donghyuck’s chest and pushes him back closer to him. “Renjun, your turn.”

“Mm, because you’re way over there… truth.”

“Why does it matter where I’m at?” Jaemin asks him. “You know if I think you’re lying, I can just get over there and choke the real truth outta you, right?”

“I know. You won’t though, it’s against the rules.”

Jeno’s smile is clear in his voice when he speaks. “Don’t provoke him, Injun.”

(And even if the nickname bothers Jaemin just a little, the absolute faith Jeno has in him helps him ignore it better.)

“What’s the worst thing you’ve ever seen?” Jisung asks. “Like, you know. The future thing. Have you ever seen something so bad? The apocalypse, maybe?”

Renjun hums. “So far so good, but I was mortified when I saw that Donghyuck was going to drop out of school in the flashiest way possible. That’s one of the worst visions I’ve ever had.”

“Excuse you, Renjun, that was _cool_ ,” Donghyuck immediately snaps. “No one’s ever done that before in the whole boring ass town! I’m a fucking legend.”

“More like a living scandal,” Renjun says lightly, quickly dodging Donghyuck’s night cap that is thrown his way. “The attention you wanted? They all went to us, Hyuck. It was bad. For me, at least. People were asking the heck out of where you were, what you were thinking, or if you were crazy… I couldn’t speak too well that time, but I told them that you were.”

Jaemin shrugs. “Where’s the lie?”

“I don’t miss school at all, so you guys can carry on with your stupid classes and all that,” Donghyuck says. “I’ll come back on your graduation day.”

“I’ll kill you if you crash it,” Mark suddenly says, and he eyes Donghyuck suspiciously. The younger shoots him a thumb’s up, complete with a devilish grin.

“I wasn’t gonna, but thanks for the suggestion.”

Jaemin scowls. “Hyuck, no.”

“Kidding. I’m not going back there ever.”

“I don’t know who the hell did you wrong—“

“Everyone, really!”

“—but don’t you dare take it out on us,” Jeno finishes. “Like, not our generation, please. Now if you wanna crash Jisung’s graduation party, that’s a different story. I would even love to join that one.”

Jisung throws Jeno a dirty look, but doesn’t humor him further.

 

 

The game drags out until much later, and to call it messy would be a big understatement. Jaemin supposes they won’t ever _not_ be messy when they’re playing anything together, honestly. At one point in time, both Donghyuck and Jaemin tackle Mark to the ground when he so obviously tries to lie through his teeth, while Jeno and Jisung’s banter has somewhat become a constant background noise. They only stop after it’s Renjun’s turn again and the boy is already fast asleep on his spot, curling into a ball with his head resting on top of his folded jacket.

“It’s funny because he does the least and yet he’s knocked out cold first,” Mark says, as he unwraps Renjun’s blanket and drapes it over the younger’s legs. Renjun’s lashes flutter, but he doesn’t wake up.

Chenle laughs. “He’s cute. That’s all there is to it.”

“Question. If I was the one who falls asleep first, you’d just draw on my face, wouldn’t you?” Donghyuck asks at nobody in particular, and both Jeno and Chenle reply at the same time, “Yeah,” while Jaemin just shrugs and Mark winces.

“This is discrimination,” Donghyuck declares, hand on his chest in mock hurt.

“Deal with it,” Jeno says.

Chenle chooses this time to yawn, followed closely by Jisung. Jaemin flicks his fingers in front of their faces.

“Bedtime for children,” he says, but not unkindly. “Come on. Settle down.”

“Nana, we’re not kids anymore, we’re teenagers,” Jisung protests, but Jaemin shushes him and pushes him down gently by his shoulders. Jisung complies, even though he’s still spluttering unclear complaints. “Also it’s not even 9 PM yet—“

“Shut up, Jisungie, let him tuck you in while he still wants to,” Mark cuts him off from the opposing side, as he leans down on his elbow too, fixing his own blanket.

“What he says goes,” Jaemin says with a smile, and he pats Jisung’s cheek once before turning to smooth out the crease on Chenle’s sleeve. “Good night, you brats.”

“We’re _your_ brats,” Chenle says with a grin.

“That’s right, you are. Now sleep.”

Jaemin retreats back to his sleeping spot, where half of his space has already been occupied by Jeno lying flat on his back. He loosely recognizes the fading scratches on Jeno’s open arm under the hazy lighting – they look pretty new, so it must be Charmandee’s doing and not Donghyuck’s.

“And you told me he was harmless,” Jaemin whispers as he nudges Jeno to roll back to his side and let him lie down. He’s talking in a low voice because Donghyuck, who is on Jaemin’s other side, has buried himself in one of his oversized jackets and is now face-down on Mark’s blanket. Jaemin decides not to pay more attention to that. If Donghyuck wants to glue himself to Mark the whole night, it’s not his business.

Jaemin’s business is currently taking up too much space on his sleeping spot.

“Who?” Jeno murmurs back, smiling a little as Jaemin kicks his side lightly with his knee because Jeno needs to move, or Jaemin will have to use force.

“Charmandee,” Jaemin replies, and he points at Jeno’s arm, at the scratches on his skin. He wants to run his fingers on the marks, or maybe through Jeno’s soft black locks, but not now, Jaemin. Not now. Have some self-control. Please.

“He _is_ harmless,” Jeno says, and for whatever reasons, he slowly pulls down his sleeves and hides his skin from sight with a slight frown. Jaemin raises an eyebrow, but he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t touch Jeno, either. “He just—he scratched me while I was trying to tend to his wound. Y’know, animals don’t really understand the concept of infection. But I don’t want him to die, so I gotta do it.”

Jeno finally moves back to his own spot, and Jaemin sighs in relief loudly (causing Jeno to giggle), before he lays himself down and props his head on his backpack. He’s taken out the food, so he’s properly cushioned on a bag filled with spare sweaters.

Jaemin turns slightly to the side to check on Donghyuck and Mark. Like he’s seen earlier, Donghyuck is still lying on his side, facing Mark. What’s changed is that now his hand is resting on top of the older’s stomach ( _his hand definitely wasn’t there before,_ Jaemin whispers to Jeno, who just laughs quietly and tells him to leave them be), with Mark’s own hand only inches from Donghyuck’s.

Jaemin snorts. “Just snuggle, for god’s sake.”

“Oh, shut up,” is Donghyuck’s only response, followed by Mark’s grunt.

Jisung and Chenle are probably still awake, too, but Jaemin can see from where he is that Chenle’s close to nodding off. Jisung’s back is facing them, so Jaemin can’t really tell, but he can hear faint whispers, barely audible from his direction. Renjun’s still motionless.

Jaemin looks back to Jeno’s side and finds that Jeno is _already_ looking at him, his gaze easy and attentive. Like Donghyuck, he is now on his side, resting his head on his arm, and Jaemin tries not to think about how close his face really is to Jaemin’s shoulder.

 _What_ , Jaemin mouths at him, raising an eyebrow. _Why are you staring at me like that?_

Jeno’s mouth curls up and he offers Jaemin his free hand. Jaemin hesitates for a second, but he later takes it within his again. This is the better method anyway. Jaemin isn’t so sure he wants any of his friends to know his conversation with Jeno. Not that it’s something embarrassing, or something that he has to hide, but because it feels… strangely personal. It _is_ personal. Jaemin doesn’t want to share.

 _I was thinking_ , Jeno’s mind-voice says, _what are you thinking?_

Jaemin’s brows shoot up high. “Me?”

_Yeah, you. I can’t read minds, you know. Unlike a certain someone._

Jaemin closes his eyes for a second before he opens them again. He holds Jeno’s hand tighter within his, and pulls it down to rest their interconnected fingers on top of his chest. “You’re not essentially wrong,” Jaemin mutters, “I just think about how much I love doing this. Doing anything with you guys, really. It makes me happy.”

“Ew, you’re getting sentimental,” Donghyuck suddenly says from Jaemin’s other side, and Jaemin rolls his eyes. This is exactly _why_ he doesn’t want his friends to hear what he’s saying. Especially not Donghyuck.

“Donghyuck, I thought I already told you to shut up and just snuggle Mark.”

“I _am_ , can’t you see? Well, you can’t, since you’re too busy flirting again.”

Jaemin scoffs. “You were saying, Jen?”

_I haven’t said anything. Donghyuck interrupted my train of thoughts._

“He sure did.”

“Whatever rude thing you guys are talking about me, I—“

“Donghyuck!” It’s Mark now. “We’re never going to get any sleep if you won’t stop reacting to every little thing.”

“Hear, hear,” Jeno says, with his actual voice. “Go to bed, Hyuckie.”

Donghyuck scoffs, but then he shuts up for good. Jaemin shifts a little so he can put some more distance between Donghyuck and him, in case they accidentally touch at night and Donghyuck’s dreams get relayed to him. Jaemin doesn’t need to see to know just how much Mark shows up inside _and_ outside of Donghyuck’s mind, thank you very much.

This means he gets to be closer to Jeno, though. Which he certainly doesn’t mind.

_Me too._

“What?”

_Me too. This makes me happy._

“You sure you’re not in it just for the frog pond?”

Jeno chuckles. _Don’t make me change my mind, Nana._

“I’m not,” Jaemin says, a bit louder this time. He immediately clamps his hand over his mouth and turns to see if he’s woken anyone up, but so far, nobody has moved. “I’m not,” he repeats, in a smaller voice.

_What’re you getting so worked up for?_

Jaemin’s face feels warm of all the sudden. “Shut up.”

_I’m literally not talking right now, but okay. I could use some sleep. Charmandee—he keeps me awake until late at night. Sometimes he’ll go crazy inside of the cargo and the noise drives me insane. I can’t really sleep like that._

“Sucks to be you, I guess.”

_Nah. No pain no gain._

“What’s the gain?”

_Cute animals._

“I beg to differ in Charmandee’s case, but whatever floats your boats.”

_You think he’s cute. I know you do. It was all over your face yesterday._

“You a telepath now too or something?”

 _No_ , Jeno thinks, and his already mild mind-voice turns even softer, which surprises Jaemin. _No, I just read you pretty well. Years of practice, you know._

Jaemin wants to say that it’s supposed to be _him_ who reads Jeno well – and he does, he reads Jeno better than anyone ever could – but the older has already pulled his hand away from Jaemin’s and rolls onto his back again before Jaemin can even think of how to say it. With a sigh, he puts his arm over his eyes, hiding half of his face. Jaemin quietly watches as Jeno’s chest rises and falls with every breath he takes, before slowing down comfortably.

“Good night,” Jaemin whispers, and Jeno hums.

“Good night, Nana.”

He said that, but in the end it takes him well over an hour to get drowsy. Jeno’s breathing completely evens out while Jaemin waits for lethargy to come his way. As his eyelids grow heavy and his body relaxes, Jaemin’s half-awake mind spins further away from his usual control. If he lifts his hand just a little, for example, he could hold Jeno’s arm. He has no reason to, though. No strength, too. But he kind of wants to.

Jaemin falls asleep accompanied by the sound of Donghyuck’s loud breathing, Mark’s occasional sniffing (he’s a little weak to cold), and Jeno’s arm inches from his.

For someone who deals with people’s clean thoughts daily, Jaemin’s dreams are strangely never clear-cut. He rarely dreams of past events, or recent memories, or even about stupid things he and his friends might do in real life. Not anymore, anyway. Unlike Renjun, whose dreams sometimes contain fragments of the future, or Donghyuck, who always dreams about distinctive, foreign places with their exciting beauty, Jaemin’s dreams only consist of obscure colors, shifting around inside of his slumbering mind.

He’s had a thought that maybe this is how his brain has adapted to the strange way his power works. He used to have regular dreams a long time ago. He remembers bits and pieces of his old dreams when he was younger, before he got his whole touch-and-know ability, and sometimes when he wakes up in the morning after a night full of blurred shades, he wonders if he’s going to ever dream like that again. Maybe not. Maybe yes. Maybe his mind is still acclimating, and one day his old dreams will finally find their way back to him.

The good thing is, despite not being able to dream normally, Jaemin can change it. A temporary solution, yes, but he can kick the colors out of his brain and fill it with something else, even if it’s just for awhile.

Jeno’s dreams, for one.

 

 

Jaemin knows he’s in for a ride when the colors start to fade from the back of his eyelids, and taking their place are vibrant, precise images of a forest – down to the smallest details. Jaemin hears twigs being crushed underneath his shoes, feels the cold moss underneath his naked palms, and when he turns, Jeno’s already next to him, with one knee on the ground, making soft, _tsk_ -ing sounds from his mouth as he bends down over a small tree log.

Jaemin remembers this. This happened over a year ago, when they’d strayed from their usual footpath on the way home and went into the forest because Jeno had caught on a distressed signal from an animal. Not an uncommon occurrence, really.

“What’s in there?” Jaemin asks, even though he already knows that a rabbit is inside of the log, hiding from a fox that has just chased it only a few minutes prior.

“A scared bunny,” Jeno replies quietly, as he slowly enters his hand into the mouth of the log. “Come on, furball, I’m not going to hurt you.”

Jaemin watches noiselessly as Jeno pulls back his arm, a small rabbit latching onto his hand. Jeno holds it against his chest and strokes its white fur, and Jaemin can’t help but to coo.

“Oh, so cute,” he says delightedly, but he keeps his distance because he doesn’t want to scare the small rabbit away.

Jeno smiles at him. “Thanks.”

“No, not you, idiot.” Jaemin laughs. “I meant the bunny.”

“Naw, but I’m cute, too,” Jeno says, and he looks up at Jaemin with an expression of faux hurt on his face. Jaemin just rolls his eyes. “Right?”

“Yeah, you’re the cutest. After me.”

Jeno purses his lips. “Okay, I won’t correct you there.”

Jaemin laughs again. “Oh, so I’m right? I’m the cutest?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

A gush of wind changes the forest scenery to something else, and now the both of them are standing underneath the pouring rain, wet raincoat pasted on their skin. Jaemin’s damp hair is dripping icy water down his face, and it’s cold and uncomfortable, but Jeno’s voice calls him to look down and he does, momentarily forgetting everything else.

“That one,” Jeno says from where he’s kneeling on the ground. He’s pointing at a rock at the other side of the pond, under which there are a couple of frogs sitting. “Can you see those ones?”

“Yeah, but they’re brown.”

“Exactly,” Jeno says, disappointment clear in his voice.

Jaemin shifts his weight between one foot to another, feeling water starting to soak into his shoes. “You sure you weren’t seeing things?”

“I wasn’t,” Jeno insists. “I know what I saw. There was an _orange_ frog here last week, when I was tracking down an owl. It was raining back then, too. Orange, Nana. An _orange_ frog. How cool is that?”

Jaemin clicks his tongue impatiently. “Even if your eyes weren’t lying, or if you weren’t imagining it, you know you can’t take it home. Colorful frogs are poisonous, right? Especially here. You know what this place did to _us_. You’re not seriously getting a clearly… mutated creature from here.”

Jeno hums, but he doesn’t formulate a clear response. His raincoat hood is slipping back, and Jaemin steps closer to pull it back over his head. Jeno barely notices. Are frogs really that important? More than Jaemin’s visible irritation that they’re both probably gonna catch a cold soon?

“Jeno,” he says again, when Jeno is still staring intently at the frogs, as if they’ll suddenly turn orange if he stares long enough. “It’s not here now. Maybe next time.”

Jeno sighs. “Yeah. Maybe next time.”

Jeno looks so dejected that Jaemin can’t help but to feel sorry for him. He places his hand on Jeno’s shoulder. “Hey, don’t worry. I’ll go with you the next time, too.”

“Even if it’s raining?”

“Even if the fucking Katrina hits, moon eyes, yeah.”

The scene shifts once more, and Jaemin is now sitting on the carpeted floor of his own bedroom. Contrary to the heavy rain before, the heat is now so strong it’s almost palpable, and Jaemin finds himself wiping beads of sweat from his face and the back of his neck over and over again. His shirt is damp and clinging tightly on his skin, and when Jeno walks in with two glasses of iced lemonade, Jaemin almost sheds a tear in relief.

“Jesus, you’re sweating a lot,” Jeno comments, as he hands one glass to Jaemin. “Are you okay? Do you feel like dying?”

“This is the hottest summer I’ve ever had in my whole fifteen years of life,” Jaemin says. “I mean, I’m thermophilic, but damn. I almost want to move to the Arctic.”

Jeno chuckles. “I may or may not agree with you, but whatever. Why am I here again?”

“Do you want the official reason or the unofficial one?”

“Official first.”

“Okay. I need to interview you for the PE project I’m doing. You know, you, someone who’s actually good at sports.”

“Uh, timeout. Why me? Mark’s the star player. You used to be in the main team, too. Why don’t you just interview yourself?”

Jaemin sighs. “You know I don’t do sports anymore.”

For a split second, Jeno’s eyes drop to Jaemin’s crossed legs, as if considering the legitimacy of Jaemin’s statement. Jaemin doesn’t have to touch him to know what he’s thinking, because Jeno may have a passive expression by default, but not when he’s thinking about Jaemin’s injury – the one that he suffered two years ago, and the same one that had caused him to quit the volleyball team for good. The one that has become an unspeakable, almost invisible hurdle, the one that has been lodging itself in between Jeno’s conscience and Jaemin’s lack of desire to actually talk about it.

“You know—“ he begins, but Jaemin cuts him off immediately.

“Don’t. Don’t even start. We talked about this.” His tone is final.

Jeno’s eyes are unreadable, but not to Jaemin. He’s perplexed, a little exasperated, but he’s trying not to make it evident. He finally gives up, though.

“You’re right, we did. What’s the unofficial reason, then?”

“I just want to be with you.”

Jeno’s finger slip a little on the wet surface of the glass, no doubt slightly surprised by Jaemin’s sudden honesty. He’s got deft hands, so he doesn’t drop it. “Do you now?” he asks, a little playfully, but also quite confoundedly.

“Yes I do. We don’t see each other much in school, you know?” Jaemin says. “You’re supposed to be my best friend, and yet I see Chenle more than I see you these days.”

“I _am_.” Jeno takes a sip of his lemonade, offended eyes narrowing at Jaemin as he does. “I am your best friend, I mean. I’m your homeboy.”

“Uh-huh. Then we should do what best friends do best: hang together.”

“We are.”

Jaemin flicks his fingers in front of Jeno’s face. “Then don’t question my reasons, Jeno Lee. Now, where’s my bag?”

“Over here,” Jeno says, and he reaches his hand back to grab Jaemin’s backpack and flings it at him. “Let’s just hope this isn’t gonna bore me to death.”

“How dare _you_ , I handpicked these questions myself,” Jaemin says, smacking Jeno’s arm lightly with the side of his backpack. “Rest assured, you—“

“—will definitely die of boredom? Yeah, I can smell it coming, really.”

Jaemin scoffs. “Okay, shut up. Now,” he says, pulling out his clipboard from his bag, “First question is—“

“Say, Nana,” Jeno suddenly cuts him off again, and Jaemin scowls at him, muttering a “Really? _Now?_ ” under his breath, “Have you ever kissed someone?”

Jaemin’s hand jerks up so fast he nearly knocks his lemonade over. Only nearly, but Jeno fusses and takes the glass away from him and puts it at a reasonable distance from them. “What if you’d stained the carpet,” he whines, while Jaemin just stares at him.

“Uh, what did you just say?” he finally asks, and he feels another bead of sweat dripping down the back of his neck, only this time it’s definitely not because of the heat. His face is hot, too, but also not because of the heat. Definitely not.

Jeno sips his lemonade again, his thoughts clear on his face. _You heard me._

Now this is a problem. Jaemin isn’t even sure what to think, moreover how to respond. What the hell is Jeno on, anyway? Just what kind of person would drop such a nerve-racking question like that out of nowhere?

(Jeno Lee apparently. Although maybe Donghyuck’s a close second.)

“Let me change my question,” Jaemin tries again. “What kind of question is that?”

“A personal one. Just answer it, for god’s sake. I’m your best friend, I deserve to know things you do. Even the inappropriate ones.”

“Okay, first of all,” Jaemin says, putting up a finger, “Kissing isn’t inappropriate. Don’t make it sound like… like it’s a big sin or something. Second of all, kissing isn’t inappropriate. Wait, I said that already. What was I saying? Where was I, Jeno?”

“You’re getting flustered,” Jeno points out, and his lips split into a wide grin as he brushes a hand over Jaemin’s knee. His touch feels like fire on Jaemin’s already-burning skin. “I don’t know why, but you’re getting flustered.”

“Please. Who wouldn’t get flustered if you— _you_ , of all people!—suddenly asked me a question like this?”

“I wouldn’t,” Jeno says calmly. “If you were the one who’d asked me that, I wouldn’t get flustered. I would just say, no, I haven’t really kissed anyone before in my life, and since you’re probably the same, do you want to try?”

“That’s what you’d do,” Jaemin says, exhaling loudly. Then he freezes. “Wait. What?”

Jeno shrugs, before he, too, puts his lemonade away. Now he’s completely staring at Jaemin, focus undivided, his knuckles digging into his cheek as he looks on. He repeats what he said one more time, patiently, slowly, and Jaemin wonders if Jeno notices just how tense his whole body suddenly is.

“Nana,” Jeno says again, minutes later, when Jaemin glares at a spot on Jeno’s shoulder just so he doesn’t have to catch Jeno’s gaze. “You know I was just kidding, right?”

He wasn’t. He _definitely_ wasn’t. Jaemin doesn’t want to touch him to make sure, but Jeno definitely wasn’t kidding. He knows Jeno’s lying face, and now he’s not wearing that, for better or worse. Probably worse.

“You were?” Jaemin asks. His thoughts are jumbled, spinning around wildly inside of his head, but he has to do this. This is too good of a chance to miss. “Funny, because I was just about to take you up on that offer.”

Jeno’s eyebrows shoot up. “Really?”

“Really.”

Jaemin’s gaze grudgingly drops to Jeno’s lips, which are slighty parted with surprise, and maybe also a little bit of anticipation. He consciously thinks about how they will feel against his. What do lips taste like, anyway? What do _Jeno_ ’s lips taste like?

Jeno suddenly straightens up and knocks their knees together, which jolts Jaemin out from his reverie.

“Where are you staring?” Jeno says, and Jaemin swears he hasn’t even blinked, but the next thing he knows Jeno’s fingers are already on his cheeks; soft, dull nails grazing gently on skin, sending arrays of intense emotions right into Jaemin’s mind.

He was right. Jeno _is_ expecting this, whatever the hell is he trying to gain from kissing him. Jaemin can barely care, though.

“Where I’m supposed to if we’re gonna kiss, dumbass,” Jaemin replies lightly, even though he’s feeling nowhere as calm as his own voice. He barely says things consciously now, but they sound good, and Jeno laughs to his face, so it can’t be that bad. This can’t be that bad.

“Mmkay,” Jeno hums, and with his slim fingers (Jaemin’s own fingers are rigid on his thighs, he doesn’t dare to move even one bit), he slightly turns Jaemin head to the side. Jaemin is almost out of air supply, but he’s still holding his breath stubbornly. “Hm, how should we do this?”

Jaemin is going insane, he really is. Jeno’s face is close. _Too_ close. His thoughts are all over the place, blending themselves with Jaemin’s own mix of panic and eagerness. He’s getting dizzy from it all, honestly. Can Jeno just hurry up?

“If you don’t kiss me within three seconds,” Jaemin starts again, when Jeno just keeps staring at his face, all crescent eyes and cheeky smiles, “I will literally—“

“Shut the hell up,” Jeno says, and he leans forward, _finally_ , to press his lips against Jaemin’s.

Jaemin sucks in a sharp breath at the contact, and Jeno pulls back a bit, also surprised, but he’s back to kissing him again the very next second. Then the next second after that. And then the next, and the next, and the next, until Jaemin feels like he could sketch every inch of Jeno’s lips just by memory, until he feels like he will never get Jeno’s taste off his mouth.

Not a bad feeling per se. Not a bad feeling at all.

It takes Jaemin awhile before he realizes that lips don’t transfer thoughts as well as fingers do.

 

 

When Jaemin opens his eyes, the first thing he sees is the dimming light of the emergency lamp. He lifts his head a little, eyes still heavy, and notices that somehow they have ended up tangled together. One of Jaemin’s arms is stuck underneath Jeno’s and his head has been pressed against the older’s shoulder the whole time, which explains the crumple on his clothes, and also the vivid dreams he’s been having.

Jeno shows no sign of stirring when Jaemin shifts even closer to him, and Jaemin is free to look at his lips, the same ones that he’d tasted in the summer two years ago. They haven’t really talked about it since – bringing it up proves to be quite a challenge in itself – but now that Jaemin has seen Jeno’s dreams, it’s pretty much clear that Jeno, like him, also can’t quite forget it. Who could, really. It’s comical because Jaemin always thinks Jeno’s been spending the past couple of years discarding that one specific day from his memories.

 _Might as well_ , he thinks, as he lays his head back against the blanketed floor, pressing his temple on Jeno’s shoulder again and curling up to him, hands digging into Jeno’s sleeve, hooking one leg over Jeno’s.

Jeno doesn’t dream about kissing him anymore, but it’s fine, because Jeno’s dreams are always better than nothing at all.

 

 

Jaemin doesn’t exactly know when, but somewhere in the middle of enjoying Jeno’s dreams, there’s a rift in the visions and suddenly, Chenle is there. The scenes shift rapidly between Jeno’s memories of various animals he’s taken in and blurry forest sceneries and Chenle and Jaemin.

The reason for this puzzling variation is revealed the next morning (Mark’s watch says it’s barely 5 AM), when Jaemin wakes up for the second time and sees that even though he’s still holding Jeno by the arm, Jisung has somehow lodged himself in between the both of them. It must be uncomfortable for him, trying to fit his lanky body in the already tight space between Jeno and Jaemin, but he manages, anyway. He’s still sleeping so soundly, too.

“Jisung,” Jaemin whispers, and Jisung hums, eyelashes fluttering. “What are you doing?”

It takes Jisung a few more whispers from Jaemin until he also wakes up, albeit halfheartedly. His dark eyes are thick with sleep. “What?”

“Why are you here?” Jaemin asks again, and just to make sure Jisung knows he isn’t mad, he brushes Jisung’s fringe out of his face with his free hand. Jisung’s skin is warm, much warmer than Jeno’s – probably because he’s been sleeping close to Chenle. “Your place is right there.”

“I was stopping you from doing questionable things,” Jisung replies. “Or _him_ from doing questionable things. Doesn’t matter.” Jisung jerks his thumb at Jeno, who’s still sleeping behind him. “I’m protecting you.”

Jaemin just smiles.

“Okay, so you’re just jealous, as per usual.”

“Shut up, I’m not.”

He is. His cheek is squashed against Jaemin’s shirt, so he knows.

 

 

A few hours of messy waking-ups and cold breakfast later, Mark is once again back to rolling the sleeping bags into their covers. Renjun and Jaemin end up helping out of pity – Renjun helps relaying the bags out of the window, while Jaemin dusts the filth off them.

“Wait up, I need to check the frog pond,” Jeno says, when they’re all back outside with their jackets on, the window is locked behind them (it’s Jisung’s deed this time). Donghyuck and Jisung let out a series of complains, while Jaemin just remembers about Jeno’s dream in his head last night. Jeno probably still wonders whether the orange frog actually exists or not.

“I’ll go with you,” Jaemin offers, and Jeno sticks his tongue out at Donghyuck and Jisung. He then links their arms together and without any more word said, pulls him away.

“Be back in five or we’ll leave you!” Donghyuck yells after them, when Jeno drags Jaemin to the pond. “But wait, that’s not a threat. It’s not a threat if it’s not going to trouble you.”

“Shut up, Donghyuck,” Mark says, and Jaemin glances over his shoulder to give Mark a wink. Mark’s lips are curving up knowingly, but he quickly hides it. “Let’s go to the fence.” He clutches Donghyuck by the shoulders and steers him to the opposite direction, ignoring his complains as they go.

“What’s with him?” Jaemin murmurs, even though he’s thankful, anyway.

“What’s with _you?_ ” Jeno asks him instead, tugging on his sleeve and raising an eyebrow. “You, willing to come with me to the frog pond? Something’s definitely up.”

“Oh,” Jaemin says. Even though it’s a cold morning, he unreasonably feels warm of all the sudden. “I just—I kinda saw your dreams last night.”

Jeno stops dead in his track and turns to stare at him right in the eye. “You kinda what?”

Jaemin shrugs. “You were draped all over me, what could I do?” he asks, trying to sound nonchalant as he says it. That’s a lie, though. He was the one sidling up to Jeno, not the other way around, but Jeno doesn’t have to know that.

Jeno actually looks astonished. “I was?”

“Yeah, you were!” Jaemin says, and he doesn’t know why but Jeno’s face makes him laugh out loud. Jeno smacks his arm when he still doesn’t stop. “Why do you look so scandalized? We both know how handsy you are when you’re conscious, let alone when you’re not.”

(Jaemin’s having a little too much fun with his lie here, even though honestly he’s just, if not more, as handsy as Jeno is.)

“What did I dream about?” Jeno then asks, which effectively wipes the smile off Jaemin’s face.

“Uhhhh,” he says, looking away, “The orange frog.”

Jeno narrows his eyes at him. “That’s all?”

Jaemin pulls his bottom lip in between his teeth. “No.”

“Then what else?”

“Nothing important, I swear,” Jaemin says. Then he winces. “Okay, maybe some is important. But mostly it’s just us doing stupid stuff.”

Which includes them practice kissing in the middle of a sweltering summer day, apparently, but Jaemin doesn’t say that vocally. Jeno scowls, face scrunched in thought – he has tactfully taken his hand off Jaemin, so his thoughts are inaccessible for now – before he just shrugs and walks straight toward the pond.

“Come on,” he calls out to him. “Or Donghyuck really will ditch us.”

“Unlikely, but even if he did, would it matter?”

Jeno pauses.

“Okay, yeah, you have a point. It doesn’t matter.”

Jaemin waits a little further away as Jeno walks around the lip of the pond, slowly and surely looking under every rocks and patches of grass. When he has finally made a full circle with no satisfying result, he straightens himself miserably.

“If it only comes out during the rain, what makes you think it’ll be here in a dry morning like this?” Jaemin asks, when they walk back toward the fence, where their friends are waiting.

“It’s dry but still pretty cold,” Jeno says. “And I told you reptiles are weird.”

“Frogs are amphibians.”

“Same difference.”

“No, it’s not, Jeno. What the hell have you been doing in Bio?”

Jeno deadpans, “I dropped Bio last year. Once they bring in the mice, I kick myself out.”

Jaemin actually laughs at this. “That one’s understandable, but this is elementary stuff, Jen. Frogs are _not_ reptiles.”

“Fine, they’re not. But it’s still hard to talk to them.”

Jaemin just chuckles again.

 

Taeyong is sitting on the porch when they arrive at Mark’s front yard. He’s got an open set of oil paints on the step, with a glass of dirty water next to it, and a sketchbook splayed on his folded legs. When he spots them, he tilts his head and grins, putting his brush down into the glass.

“Hey, kids,” he greets them. He sets the glass of water aside so no one (Mark, really) will accidentally knock it over on their way in. “Did you all sleep well last night? Didn’t catch a cold, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, it was okay,” Mark replies, as he and Jeno, with a sleeping bag under each of their arms, walk into the house. Jeno nods when he passes by Taeyong. Meanwhile Renjun inches closer to Mark’s older brother, peeking over his shoulder to see what he’s painting quietly and excitedly.

“How’re you, Donghyuck?” Taeyong says, when the sketchbook in his hands has moved to Renjun’s, who is now sitting down next to him. He flips the pages eagerly. “Haven’t seen you around lately.”

Donghyuck puts up both of his hands. “I’m good, bro. Been pretty busy, uh, doing nothing.”

“He hasn’t been around your house but Mark definitely has been around his,” Jaemin adds helpfully, and Donghyuck turns to glare at him.

 _That’s his brother what the hell are you saying_ , his face says, but Jaemin ignores him.

Taeyong just laughs out loud. “Honestly, I’m not even surprised. Mark? He’s pretty dense, but if you can get out what little good left in him, why not?“

Mark comes out at the right time, and he nudges the back of Taeyong’s shoulder with his knee. “I’d appreciate it if you don’t start badmouthing me in front of my friends,” he complains, while Taeyong laughs even harder. “Why don’t you just go to Jaehyun’s and give me a break, huh?”

“Okay, first of all,” Taeyong says, and he points a finger at Mark as the younger walks down the steps, Jeno following closely behind him, “I lent you those sleeping bags, Mark. Be nice. Second of all, I cook for you, too. Be nice. Third of all… why the heck should I go to Jaehyun’s? He should be the one getting his ass here, if anything.”

“I don’t know it works with you guys, but I also don’t really want to know, so,” Mark says. He puts his hands on his hips and looks at them, who are still standing by the gates. “Where are you guys going?”

“Well, Jisung said he wants to get ice cream,” Donghyuck replies.

“Really?” Mark says. “Ice cream? Guys, it’s 8 AM.”

“Point?”

Mark sighs. “None. Do you want me to come with you?”

Jaemin can read Donghyuck’s face pretty well, and there’s nothing Donghyuck wants more than just to say “yes”, but maybe that’s a bit too honest for his taste. Plus, Taeyong’s there, watching them intently. So Jaemin decides that he should come in to the rescue.

“Yeah, if you want, Mark,” he says. “You’ve got other plans?”

“I don’t, but Taeyong does,” Mark says. He looks at his brother again. “Didn’t you say you want me to clean the basement today?”

“I did, but you can go have fun first, I guess,” Taeyong says, shrugging. “So long as you come back home before lunch, you’ll be fine.”

“What if I get back after lunch?”

Taeyong looks at Mark dead in the eye. “Then you can forget dinner.”

“God, he’s nasty,” Donghyuck says, when they’re all already quite far off from Mark’s house. He said that, but there’s a big grin on his face, like he’s amazed or something. He probably is. “He’s so pretty, but also real nasty. How does Jaehyun deal with him?”

“He probably doesn’t,” is Jisung’s useful input.

“He’s too smitten to care,” Chenle says, while Mark grumbles, “Jaehyun’s just blind.”

“Okay, that’s a little harsh,” Jaemin says, and he gets in the middle of Mark and Chenle. “Jaehyun’s fine. I don’t blame him at all. I mean, if someone isn’t immediately smitten by Taeyong the first time they see him, I would doubt their judgments.”

Mark scoffs. “I wasn’t.”

“You’re his brother, dude, you looking for a fight here?” Donghyuck asks.

“It’s just,” Mark says, and he lets out a frustrated sigh, “I’ve been watching him fall in love from day one. I mean, we live together, how can I not, right? And it’s pretty mystifying.”

“Mystifying like what?” Jeno asks.

Jaemin glances over his shoulder, but Jeno’s looking straight at the back of Mark’s head. What’s with the tone of his question just now?

“Like… I can’t explain it. It just feels weird. It’s at that point where you can see the _exact_ moment Jaehyun crosses his mind, and it scares me that I even know that, y’know?”

“Grown-ups love differently,” Jaemin announces, and Mark turns to look at him.

“Did you love someone recently or what?” Mark questions, with his brows both raised. Jaemin frowns back at him. Mark should know the answer to that better than anyone. Though to be fair, it’s not really a _recent_ love. Jaemin isn’t even fully sure that it’s love. Real love as in, complete, full-sized unadulterated love, one where you’ll give your everything to that special someone and whatnot.

(Though he’s ready to give his everything for Jeno, if anything. Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe that maybe is leaning more on yes, but still.)

“Mark,” Jaemin says very seriously, “I’ve been in pretty much everyone’s heads. And hearts, too, maybe. It’s not weird that I know how feelings work better than you.”

That’s another lie. He’s probably just as clueless as Mark is. If he wasn’t, he and Jeno would’ve been something by now.

Jaemin nearly trips over the sidewalk, but Mark catches him by the arm before he could fall. Okay, maybe if he could stop thinking about Jeno for a second here, his mind will still be alright and he could actually concentrate on walking.

 

 

The ice cream trip is cut shorter than expected, because the sky has suddenly decided to make the day colder by pouring down icy rain and sending chilly winds to town. (Renjun saw it happening _five_ seconds before the first drop of water hit them, and he managed to open his umbrella before all of his friends could notice why was he acting so weird.)

“Oh, for god’s sake,” Donghyuck says, as he scurries closer to Jaemin, who’s already getting damp – his shoes are soaked again – as the taller boy struggles to open his own umbrella. “I hate morning rains.”

“My shoes,” Jaemin wails. “Not again.”

Jeno grabs him by the other arm to get under his umbrella as well, and he almost sends both Jaemin and Donghyuck tumbling to the ground.

“Hey, watch it!” Donghyuck exclaims, and he tries to push Jeno away with his free hand. Jaemin groans as he feels the impending reenactment of the day Donghyuck picked he and Jeno up from school.

“You watch it,” Jeno says, sticking his tongue out at Donghyuck. “Why don’t you share an umbrella with someone else? Jaemin’s _my_ designated umbrella partner, your presence here is unwanted.”

“There’s no such thing as designated umbrella partners,” Donghyuck responds dryly. “Get over yourself.”

“No, you get over yourself.”

“You!”

“ _Guys_ ,” Jaemin cries in exasperation. “Let’s not start, okay? Unless you want me to just close this umbrella and get all three of us drenched in one second. I’ll do it. I’ll do it for real. Do you want that?”

“No,” Donghyuck and Jeno say immediately.

“Then stop.”

“Think we should just drop the whole ice cream idea and go for chocolate instead?” Renjun says, carefully balancing his umbrella so Mark’s head won’t hit the stretcher.

“Yeah,” Mark says. “The ice cream shop’s too far of a walk anyway in this kind of weather. Let’s just go to that corner store.”

A few hours after getting themselves some hot chocolate, Jeno decides he’s been “ignoring his animal duty for too long” and asks Jaemin to come home with him. Asking Jaemin to come home also means bringing Jisung and Chenle along with them, since Jisung absolutely refuses to let Jeno be alone with Jaemin, apparently, while Chenle and Jisung themselves are one package deal, sort of.

Since Donghyuck and Mark didn’t bring umbrellas of their own (“What a lovely coincidence,” Jisung says wryly on his way out from the store, narrowly missing Donghyuck’s hand by an inch), they both are going to wait for the rain to stop there. Renjun sticks around, too, and even though he says it’s “out of respect for my friendship with Mark”, Jaemin knows he just doesn’t want his books to get wet. Mark doesn’t mean shit to Renjun compared to his books.

“Catch ya later,” Jeno says to the three of them, as he ducks under Jaemin’s umbrella and once again linking his arm with Jaemin’s. “Injun, keep an eye out. Make sure they don’t start making out against the table or something. That’d be atrocious.”

Jaemin scrunches his nose, yet he also can’t help but to laugh. Mark’s face is priceless, while Donghyuck just shows Jeno his middle finger.

Renjun just shrugs. “Don’t worry, I’ll get away minutes before they start doing that.”

“Keep yourself safe, buddy.”

“Okay, okay, let’s stop provoking Donghyuck and go home,” Jaemin says, and he tugs on Jeno’s sleeve so the older will start facing forward. “Your pets and my laundries are waiting.”                         

Jeno’s attention is back to him now. He looks at Jaemin in disbelief as they walk down the sidewalk, their shoes splashing water around. “Nana, _again?_ ”

“Yeah, again. You know I don’t like doing laundries.”

“You also don’t like making your bed, cleaning your desk, washing your shoes…” Jeno continues, and he looks down at Jaemin’s feet. “Oh, but you’re gonna have to wash this pair. You use these for school.”

“Wow, you noticed?”

Jeno frowns. “I’m not Mark, you know. I pay fine attention to details.”

Jaemin then reaches out a hand to wipe a trickle of water on Jeno’s cheek. The moment his thumb makes contact with Jeno’s bare skin, he feels Jeno’s thoughts washing over him like ocean waves. He is currently pretty calm. He’s a little worried about Charmandee, and a little cold, too, from the rain, but his mind is mostly peaceful, and Jaemin feels his own muscles relax because he doesn’t feel anything major that could cause Jeno to stress anytime soon.

Jeno’s eyes catch his, and he raises an eyebrow. “Did you just read me again?”

“No, I was wiping water off your face,” Jaemin replies teasingly. “Your thoughts were just in my way.”

Jeno snorts. “Yeah, right.”

“You don’t mind, right?” Jaemin asks, scanning Jeno’s expression for even the slightest of hint that maybe Jeno’s a bit bothered. “You don’t mind me reading you like this?”

“Hey, it’s fine,” Jeno replies. His fingers press harder against Jaemin’s forearm, sending comfort down Jaemin’s skin. “You’re just making sure I’m okay. I know you know what you’re doing.”

Honestly, Jaemin doesn’t really know what he’s doing. Maybe he really is just checking up on Jeno. Maybe he’s selfish and just wants to touch Jeno that much. He doesn’t know. He just does things, and most of these things are validated, somewhat, because they’re friends and friends touch each other a lot, but at the same time they’re also pretty unjustified. Love is contradictory like that.

One thing Jaemin has been forgetting, though, is that they’re not exactly alone there, because suddenly someone jumps into a puddle next to them and it sends splashes of water to the bottom of their already-wet jeans and shoes. Both Jeno and Jaemin curse out loud, staggered by the sudden attack, while Jisung just runs for his life right off.

“Stop flirting in public!” he yells over his shoulders, while Chenle giggles and runs past them as well. “Don’t be like Mark and Donghyuck!”

Jaemin sighs when Jisung and Chenle speed away. “Those brats… I swear I’ll strangle them in their sleep one day.”

Jeno scoffs. “I don’t think I’ll let them live long enough to even sleep tonight.”

 

 

Just like two days before today, they part in front of Jaemin’s fence. Jeno says he’s going to run through the rain to his own porch, and even though Jaemin tries to make him take the umbrella with him, he refuses.

“You’re gonna get sick,” Jaemin says, when Jeno zips up his jacket and pulls up his hood over his already-dripping hair. “You’re gonna get sick and I’m gonna have to take care of you.”

“We’ll both get sick and we’ll both take care of each other,” Jeno corrects him. “Big deal, Nana. We’ve been doing this for seventeen years, we can do it again.”

“If we’re both bedridden no one’s going to take care of anyone,” Jaemin reminds him. “Also, do you want to come over later? My mom’s making stir-fry tonight.”

“Ah. I really want to come but… I can’t.”

Jaemin frowns. It’s not often that Jeno refuses his dinner invitation. “You have other plans?”

“Calculus homework.” Jeno looks sadly at Jaemin. “With Injun.”

Jaemin is just about to chuckle at Jeno’s pout, but the desire to do so vanishes as quickly as it has appeared. He’s met with that bitter taste down his throat again, which he tries to quell by swallowing, but it doesn’t help. If it didn’t help the first two times, then it’s not gonna work the third time, either. Third time’s the charm, my ass.

“Renjun?” Jaemin repeats, and he hates that he can’t hide the sudden dryness in his voice. What if Jeno _notices?_ That would be preposterous. “Oh, he’s gonna tutor you?”

“Yeah, kinda,” Jeno replies, and he narrows his eyes at Jaemin all of the sudden, pout vanishing in a second. “Why do you look like that?”

“Why do I look like what?” Jaemin asks in faux surprise. He’s averting his gaze, of course, because he doesn’t feel like letting Jeno see through him now. Maybe not ever.

“Why do you look… I don’t know, upset?” Jeno tries.

“Me?” Jaemin repeats. He looks back at Jeno now, eyebrows both raised, because Jeno’s statement is honestly just so shocking. “ _Me_ , upset? Because of what?”

“I don’t know, I can’t read your thoughts,” Jeno replies swiftly. “You just look like it. Maybe it’s because you’re missing me but you can’t have me right away or something.”

Jaemin gapes at Jeno, mouth apart in _genuine_ surprise now. Jeno has said some dumbfounding things all his life, but this one takes the cake. Jaemin is dumbfounded. He’s beyond dumbfounded, even – he’s speechless, breathless, and quite possibly losing his goddamn mind. Does Jeno know that? No. Does Jeno care? Probably also no, since he keeps doing things that drive Jaemin up the wall.

“You’re silly,” is what Jaemin says a few seconds later, after he’s managed to close his mouth and scowls at Jeno. “Now go home.”

“Oh?” Jeno grins. “Bull’s eye.”

“No, I just said you’re silly. Run along now, homeboy.”

Jeno grins, rows of teeth on display, and Jaemin’s irritation fades a bit – just a _tiny_ bit – but that’s before Jeno leans in to land a peck on Jaemin’s cheek, and this is where Jaemin’s mind goes blank. He loses his focus so quick that it’s actually remarkable he hasn’t lost his balance right there and then.

“See you tomorrow at school,” Jeno says, a few seconds later after he’s pulled himself away, and he waves at Jaemin before he ducks his head and speedwalks through the rain, letting out vague yells as the icy drops hit his body.

Meanwhile, Jaemin is still frozen in front of his own house.

 

 

When he hides underneath the covers hours later, stir-fry eaten and dishes washed, he still hasn’t stopped thinking about Jeno.

(“Mom,” Jaemin asked, while he put the plates downward in their drying bracket. “Uh, how did you feel when Dad first kissed you?”

His mother looked up from the magazine she was reading and eyes Jaemin carefully. “Did someone kiss you recently, honey?”

 _Yeah, that handsome boy next door,_ _Mom_ , _the one you’ve been calling the second son you never had,_ Jaemin wanted to say, but of course he didn’t. Also he didn’t kiss Jeno that recently, either. It was two years ago. He could still see it as if it was yesterday, though, but it was two years ago.

He cleared his throat. “Just answer the question, please.”

His mother made a noncomittal hum and flipped the page of her magazine, a smile widening on her lips. “I don’t know, sweetie, I think I was pretty freaked out.”)

Well, now Jaemin is freaking out, too. Not exactly because of the kiss (both from two years ago or the latest one), but also because of the weird things that have been happening as of late. The way his heartbeat accelerates when Jeno is getting too close. The newfound habit to look at Jeno when he’s not looking, and to quickly avert his gaze when he looks back. The absolute desire to hold Jeno’s hand and intertwine their fingers together, just to see if they would match each other nicely. The thoughts that stem inside of his mind whenever he (not so) accidentally stares at Jeno’s lips and cannot _not_ think about how he’s tasted them once, and that he also wants to taste them again. The bitterness on his tongue whenever Renjun’s name is mentioned.

That last one’s bizarre, though. Jaemin has absolutely no reason to be jealous of Renjun. As far as he could tell, Jeno doesn’t exactly talk to Renjun the way he talks to Jaemin. He doesn’t touch Renjun like he touches Jaemin, either. He might be a little protective of the Chinese, yes, but aren’t they all?

 _Plus_ , Jaemin thinks to himself. He didn’t see any Renjun in Jeno’s dreams yesterday. He just saw himself. Just Jeno and him, no one else.

Now if that isn’t a pretty damn clear hint, Jaemin must be as oblivious as Mark is.

 

 

Good thing about Monday: no Socio.

Not so good thing about Monday: there’s Geo.

“Welcome to the class,” Mark says, when Jaemin shows up a few minutes before the bell rings. The chair next to Mark is empty, so Jaemin sits there. “It’s boring, but I hope you’ll like it here.”

“Hint: I probably won’t,” Jaemin says as he looks around. “Where’s Renjun?”

“He’s not coming to school today,” Mark announces, and he frowns a little as he looks at the door. “He got rained on yesterday night, I think. Now he’s caught a cold, poor guy.”

Jaemin leans back on his chair. “Shame. That Calculus homework must be so worth it.”

“What?”

“No, nothing.”

Mark was right – Geo _is_ boring. But at the very least they’re not talking about human beings now. Jaemin spends the next half an hour staring at Mark playing with a bright-colored plasticine under the table, the teacher’s dull voice fading into some sort of background noise they both clearly ignore. Then Mark notices that Jaemin is staring, splits it, and gives Jaemin the other half of the plasticine.

“To keep your magic hands company,” he whispers, and Jaemin rolls his eyes, but he smiles and accepts it anyway. He puts his arm behind his back and lets his fingers squeeze the soft material underneath them. It’s nice because plasticine’s inanimate. It doesn’t send back thoughts. His mind welcomes this change.

Halfway through the class, Jaemin is already close to nodding off, and he’s changed his mind about the plasticine. Exactly because it doesn’t _think_ , it’s hard for it keep him awake. So he hands it back to Mark and decides to go for a bathroom break. Maybe if he washes his face, Geo wouldn’t get less boring, but at least he won’t pass out.

The third-floor hallway is empty as always. As soon as he’s out from the dreary classroom, Jaemin is suddenly wide awake again. Not unreasonable, he supposes, as he goes down the stairs and toward the bathroom on the second floor, to be this tired. He barely got any sleep last night even though he went to bed early.

Jaemin narrowly misses stumbling against someone walking out from the bathroom door, but he stops when he recognizes the jacket and the black hair. Jeno also stops on his track when he sees Jaemin, eyes lighting up in a way that Jaemin would kill to look at forever.

“Hey,” Jaemin says, the exact same time Jeno says, “Nana!”

“What are you doing here?” Jaemin asks, grabbing Jeno by the arm and pulling him back in to the bathroom. “What class are you ditching now? Chem? Algebra? I know it’s not Anthro because it’s Monday.”

“Rude, I’m not ditching,” Jeno says, and he laughs but lets Jaemin drag him away anyway. “I went to wash my face because I was getting sleepy, y’know? The usual stuff.”

“What a coincidence, I also went to do that,” Jaemin says dryly, and he lets go of Jeno’s arm to turn on the faucet. “Renjun caught a cold, what did you do to him last night?”

“I didn’t do anything, oh my god,” Jeno says, and he watches Jaemin wash his face as he leans on the tiled wall. His arms are crossed and he looks defensive. _Playful_ defensive, really.

“Mark said he got rained on yesterday. Why didn’t you lend him an umbrella?”

“Because he already brought his own! I offered to walk him home, but he refused. Since his house’s pretty far, he said. If he got sick because he wanted to be polite, it’s not really my problem.”

Jaemin shrugs. “It’s mine. Now Mark and I are missing a classmate.”

“Funny for you to say that, since _you_ were the one getting jealous of him yesterday,” Jeno comments, and Jaemin hand on the sink slips down.

“What did you just say?” he splutters.

“You were the one getting jealous—“

“I can’t believe you actually repeated that. Shut up,” Jaemin says, and he makes a gesture of zipping his own mouth shut and throwing away the key. “Shut up, Jeno Lee.”

Jeno just shrugs. “It was true, then.”

Jaemin looks at his own reflection in the mirror and sees himself staring back with a bewildered look in his eyes. From there, he can also see Jeno staring at him, too, his face easy and curious. Almost _expectant_ , even. Jaemin doesn’t know how to deal with him. Jaemin doesn’t know how to deal with a lot of things involving him.

“Why are you like this?” he finally complains, as he turns off the faucet and walks toward the door. Jeno lets out a delighted chuckle and follows him.

“Why am I like what?” he asks, tone spirited.

Jaemin sighs.

“Listen,” he begins, and he goes for Jeno’s hand, but before he can grab hold of it, Jeno realizes his intention and steps back, away from Jaemin. For a second there, Jaemin looks up and notices dread on Jeno’s face, his smile long gone. Jaemin also notices how his lips thin into a straight line, notices how he quickly jerks his hand away.

It doesn’t hurt him as much as it surprises him, maybe, but this is new. Jeno has never openly rejected his touch, not even once.

He just did, though. And it’s throwing Jaemin right off his balance.

Jaemin then looks at Jeno, scanning his face to see if there’s something wrong. The dread stays in the older’s eyes before it finally fades, and he blinks. He now looks regretful. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Nana.”

“For what?” Jaemin asks, and he’s confused, because what _exactly_ is Jeno sorry for? Yeah, it kinda hurts that he doesn’t want Jaemin to hold his hand, but it’s not something to feel sorry about, not really?

“I didn’t mean to—“ he says, and he gestures wildly at Jaemin’s hand. “I didn’t mean anything by it, I swear.”

“You don’t want me to read you?” Jaemin questions carefully. “Something’s happened?”

“No,” Jeno replies, but from the way he’s said it, it seems like he’s also unsure of himself. Jaemin awkwardly puts his hand inside of his pocket, while Jeno continues to hide his behind his back. “Everything’s fine.”

When Jaemin parts with Jeno at the stairs leading up to the third floor, he realizes what’s been bothering him for the last few minutes: Jeno was wearing his lying face.

 

 

Jeno doesn’t show up at lunch again.

There is nothing that Jaemin wants to do more than to ask Jisung if he’s seen him, but he holds himself back. Mark is sitting next to him, reviewing Chenle’s English homework as he eats, while Jisung is busy with his. Renjun has left earlier because he saw that a teacher would be looking for him.

They’re all talking but the table feels too empty. Jaemin just stares quietly at his potatoes and wonders if he’s done something wrong.

He didn’t, though. He knows he didn’t. He didn’t do anything out of the ordinary lately. If anything, it was all _Jeno_ who’s gone out of his way to be weird around him. Like that peck on the cheek yesterday, for example. Or the suggestive way he’d confronted Jaemin regarding his jealousy (he still won’t admit this one aloud).

A small part of him suddenly questions if Jeno has somehow regretted doing all that, and his stomach churns uncomfortably. He doesn’t like this thought at all. If it was true, though, it would’ve explained why Jeno didn’t want Jaemin to read him. If it was true, he also wouldn’t know how to deal with it. Or if he _could_ deal with it, honestly.

Mark suddenly smacks his palm across of Jaemin’s back and he startles.

“Okay, listen,” Mark says, “You’ve been quiet since you came back from the bathroom earlier, man. C’mon, spit it out, what happened?”

“Nothing?” Jaemin stares at Mark, trying to make his face look surprised.

“You sure?”

Mark is unconvinced, damn.

“Yeah.”

At that moment, Jisung chooses to look up from his homework and says, “If Nana says it’s nothing, it’s probably a big deal, but good luck trying to pry it out of him.”

“Wow, thank you so much, kid,” Jaemin says. He stretches his hand out to ruffle Jisung’s light hair, and the younger grunts. “But for real, though. Everything’s fine, Mark. Don’t worry.”

This reminds him of Jeno’s exact words earlier, and he instantly feels dull again. Mark’s hand lands on top of Jaemin’s thigh underneath the table, and Jaemin winces when Mark opts to interrogate him mentally. Mark is so insistent, it’s actually amazing.

_You didn’t fight with Jeno or anything, didn’t you?_

Jaemin raises his eyebrow at him, but shakes his head slightly. It wasn’t a fight. Technically, Jaemin isn’t lying here.

 _Really,_ Mark thinks, eyes unfocused. _So why isn’t he here now?_

“I dunno, do I look like his babysitter?” Jaemin snaps. He suddenly realizes that he’s said it louder than expected, because both Jisung and Chenle look at him simultaneously, surprised by the harshness of his tone. Mark’s eyes go wide, and Jaemin immediately feels guilty. “God. Sorry, Mark.”

“It’s fine,” Mark says, and even though his voice is light, Jaemin knows Mark’s still shocked. He feels even worse now. “I won’t pry again, I promise.”

Jaemin moves his hand to squeeze Mark’s arm. “I give you permission to.”

Mark’s smile is small, but a smile nevertheless. “Okay, maybe next time.”

“What are you two talking about?” Chenle asks openly, but Mark just shushes him and tells him to fix his spelling errors. Jisung eyes Jaemin carefully, though, and even if Jaemin knows he’s not the type to confront him head on, Jaemin still feels a little nervous.

“You’re _my_ babysitter, though,” is the only thing Jisung says after a couple of minutes have passed, and Jaemin heaves a relieved sigh. “Also, Jeno went back earlier.”

Suddenly Jaemin doesn’t feel relieved anymore. “He what?”

“Yeah, he went home earlier,” Jisung says, tone easy. “Said he’s got something to do at home. He looked pretty chill about it, but he was distraught. I could tell.”

“ _We_ could tell,” Chenle corrects him. “I was the one who told you he looked troubled. You were too busy being passsive-aggressive with him to notice.”

Jisung responds with something, but Jaemin doesn’t focus on them long enough to register his words. He’s staring blankly at Mark’s plastic spoon.

Jeno, troubled? Why? As far as Jaemin knows – and he knows a lot – Jeno doesn’t exactly get himself troubled. His family’s fine, his friends (them) are fine, his school life’s a bit messy but definitely not something to stress over. Now he’s ditching school, probably to take care of said trouble. What could’ve made him upset? So upset that he doesn’t want Jaemin to know, even?

“I know that face,” Mark says again, when Jaemin still doesn’t say anything. “Whatever is going on inside of that head of yours, don’t try to do anything funny.”

Jaemin scoffs. “Define funny.”

“Like go home after him, for one,” Mark continues. “And nag him until he tells you what’s wrong. If he wants to tell you, he will. If he doesn’t, he won’t. It’s not your responsibility to know everything about him, or go around finishing all of his problems.”

A pause as Jaemin tries to swallow Mark’s words.

“What’s your deal?” he then asks, and he doesn’t want it to sound like he’s asking for a fight (because he isn’t), but it comes out that way, anyway. Chenle’s mouth is agape, and Jisung’s gaze switches back and forth between Mark and Jaemin consecutively, lip caught in between his teeth. The whole table feels tense now.

“None, but I know what yours is,” Mark says, and Jaemin loves that despite everything, he still sounds calm. Mark is dumb only when he doesn’t want to be dumb. The rest of time, he’s pretty dependable. Like now. “You care about Jeno too much.”

It’s like Mark has grabbed Jaemin’s heart with his hand and crushed it to pieces or something, because he’s right. He’s so right that Jaemin is actually knocked for six that he hasn’t realized this himself way earlier.

He _does_ care about Jeno. Maybe a little too much that it’s unhealthy.

“He’s my friend,” Jaemin says slowly, after he’s collected back his thoughts.

“He’s my friend too, what’s your point?”

Jaemin sighs. “What’s _yours?_ ”

“That you should baby Jisung and not Jeno,” Mark says, stabbing a straw to his carton of milk and continues to stare at Jaemin. His eyes are wary, almost tired, and Jaemin wonders just how long has he been holding all of these thoughts back out of the goodness (and stupidity) of his heart.

Jaemin reluctantly looks at Jisung, and the younger just shrugs. “You can baby me,” he says casually. “I don’t mind.”

“I know you don’t,” Jaemin says. “You’re the least of my worry now.”

“What about me?” Chenle asks.

“You’re the second least of my worry, kid.”

Chenle looks satisfied by Jaemin’s answer, but Jaemin barely notices.

 

 

When Jaemin arrives home, Jeno’s bedroom window is still tightly shut with the blinds pulled down to the bottom. Jaemin puffs out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, before he unlocks his gate and walks into the house.

In the evening, Jaemin glances at Jeno’s window again, but there’s no significant change. He contemplates taking one pebble from the plastic bowl and calls him out, but he finally decides against it. Instead he sits down on his chair and begins cleaning his desk.

 

 

Jaemin is just about to get under his covers when there’s a soft clank on his window. He freezes, one knee already on the mattress, before he turns to look.

Jeno’s blinds are up, and bright yellow lights are pouring out from his window. There’s a familiar shadowy figure there, and Jaemin puts his foot back to the floor and gets up to open his own window.

Jeno’s face is half-hidden by the darkness outside of his room, but Jaemin doesn’t need to see his face to know that he’s not doing well. There’s no smile, there’s no crinkling eyes, there’s nothing. Jeno puts back the second pebble he’s holding into his own bowl when Jaemin has opened his window.

“It’s,” Jaemin begins to say, because Jeno doesn’t look like he’d say something first, “Almost midnight, what the hell.”

“Right,” Jeno replies, and his voice is soft, almost feeble, even. Then he clears his throat. “Sorry. I saw that you were going to bed and I just—“ Jeno makes a weak, vague gesture with his hand, and Jaemin’s heart liquesces.

“You just wanted to talk to me?” Jaemin guesses, a little friskily.

Jeno lets out an incredulous-sounding “ha”. Then, “Maybe.”

“Lying isn’t your forte, moon eyes,” Jaemin says, and he looks down at Jeno’s hands, folded neatly on the windowsill. He remembers the way Jeno has pulled his hand away earlier this morning, and he swallows to wet the sudden dryness in his throat. Ah, he _hates_ this. “You did want to talk to me.”

“I _do_ want to talk to you,” Jeno clarifies. He puts his chin on top of his one hand now, and Jaemin stares at the soft way his fringe falls over his brows. How could Jeno be so handsome even when it’s dark and Jaemin can barely look at his face? World’s greatest mystery. “Tell you something, actually. I’m not going to school tomorrow.”

And there he goes. Jaemin’s attention quickly shifts from Jeno’s compelling attractiveness to the weight of his sudden declaration.

“What?” Jaemin asks in disbelief. “Why?”

“Chill, you make it sound like I’m going to war and not coming back or something. It’s just for a couple of days, maybe. If I’m lucky.”

Jeno’s got a point. It really does bother him more than it should.

“Can I ask why?” Jaemin questions, after a short-lived pause.

He was careful, but Jeno’s face still falters, and Jaemin’s heart falters with it.

“It’s nothing major,” Jeno finally answers, and Jaemin notices that his hand shifts toward the lock, as if there’s nothing he wants more than to close the window and get away from Jaemin. The thought makes Jaemin’s head dizzy.

“It’s making you real upset, though,” Jaemin quietly says, and Jeno’s hand moves even closer toward the lock. Jesus. Jaemin doesn’t know what to do. He should’ve just shut up.

“It’s still nothing major,” Jeno says again, his tone final. “Just don’t miss me too much while I’m gone.”

 _I barely see you in school anyway,_ Jaemin wants to say, but he figures Jeno doesn’t need that restatement right now. Then it dawns on him. “Wait, you mean we won’t be seeing each other at all? Not even… here?”

Jeno shrugs. “Possibly.”

Jaemin doesn’t want to look too incredulous, but maybe he is, because Jeno just sighs and tells him to get inside. “Good night, Jaemin,” Jeno says, and he spares him one last exasperated look, before he turns to close his window.

Only a few hours later Jaemin realizes that Jeno had called him _Jaemin_ instead of _Nana_.

**_Nana:_ ** _jeno broke up with me_

[00:17 AM]

**_Nana:_ ** _kinda_

[00:18 AM]

**_M.Lee_ ** _: What?_

[03:42 AM]

 

 

“Before you say anything,” Jaemin starts, when he spots Mark waiting for him at his locker the next morning, “I didn’t do shit.”

“Okay, wow, you’re pissed,” Mark comments, voice surprisingly light as he steps aside to let Jaemin open his locker and shove his books inside. “I mean _perceptibly_ pissed, which is rare.”

Jaemin doesn’t respond. Instead, he stares emptily at the piece of photograph taped on the door. The younger version of Mark, Jeno, and Donghyuck stare back at him, all toothy smiles and bare limbs, their faces covered with mud. He’s suddenly hit with a concerning feeling of wistfulness that he feels like crying.

Mark notices Jaemin’s sudden silence and moves in to look over his shoulders.

“When was this?” he says, arm stretched underneath Jaemin’s to touch the old picture. “Damn, this was when Taeyong tried to cut my hair, wasn’t it? I looked so ugly, what the heck.”

“The summer three years ago,” Jaemin replies. “And you looked just fine, Mark.”

“Gettin’ sentimental, aren’t you?” Mark asks mischievously, and Jaemin elbows him lightly on the chest. Mark steps back with a mix of cough and laughter. “For real though, what happened?”

“Jeno’s weird,” Jaemin says immediately, and he slams his locker door into a close.

“We’re all weird, Jaemin,” Mark says matter-of-factly.

“I mean he’s _weirder_ than usual. He’s acting suspicious,” Jaemin continues. Mark soon matches his walking pace with Jaemin’s. “Something’s bothering him and he doesn’t want anyone to know. Not even me.”

“How does that explain your text last night?” Mark inquires. Jaemin can tell this is the true question he’s been waiting to ask. “’Jeno broke up with me, kinda’? What does that mean? You two are— _were_ —dating?”

“No,” Jaemin says dryly. “I wish we were, though, so I’d be justified to hit him until he tells me what’s wrong. Seriously.”

Mark’s lips curl up into a half-smile. “So you do like him like that.”

“Does it matter, Mark?”

“Yeah, but maybe not now. Keep talking.”

Jaemin proceeds to inform Mark about his last conversation with Jeno last night. He ends up telling Mark about the occurrence at the bathroom yesterday, too, and even though Mark looks like he can’t hold back the questions, he manages to control himself pretty well and listens through until Jaemin runs out of both breath and words. They even stop walking at one point and are now just standing near the stairs.

“Whoa,” Mark says, when Jaemin finally finishes talking. It helps a lot, actually. He’d initially planned to keep it all to himself, but maybe telling Mark was a good decision. Mark’s got to be more reliable than Donghyuck, at least, when it comes to things like this – things that actually involve the prospect of long-term friendship, or more. “Whoa, Jeno, what’s wrong with you?”

“You don’t need to repeat what you said yesterday,” Jaemin tells him. “I won’t press him or anything. I just… he’s been throwing me off balance a lot as of late.”

Mark looks at his watch, and Jaemin guesses he’s thinking of a way to console Jaemin. Weird, really, since usually it’s Jaemin who consoles Mark, and not the other way around.

Jaemin tilts his head to the side. “Does Donghyuck throw you off balance like this?”

He half-expects Mark to violently deny it, or maybe ignore him completely, but what surprises him is that Mark just shrugs and says, “Honestly? Yeah.”

Okay, now this is new. “Wait, for real?”

“No offense, but all three of you _are_ hard to figure out,” Mark admits. “Donghyuck’s unpredictable, Jeno’s actually pretty closed off, you’re too perceptive.”

“Thanks, I guess,” Jaemin says, and he pats Mark’s arm reassuringly. The older’s mood is calm, but his thoughts are quite jumbled. He briefly catches Donghyuck’s name passing Mark’s mind a few times, and Jaemin smiles. “You have it easy, Mark. Seriously.”

“What do you mean?”

“You said Donghyuck’s hard to figure out but really, he’s easy,” Jaemin says. “You just gotta find his weak spot, you know?”

“He has a weakness?” Mark asks, sounding incredibly incredulous. “What’s his weakness? Tell me, oh my god.”

 _You_ , Jaemin wants to say, but he’s loyal to Donghyuck so he doesn’t. Instead he just grins. “See you at lunch,” he says. “Thanks for lending an ear, Canada.”

Mark groans. “Oh, Jesus. Not you, too.”

 

 

The day passes in a blur. Jaemin gets through his classes quietly, always feeling a little out of it – thinking about Mark’s words.

 _Jeno’s actually pretty closed off_.

He really is. Jaemin just never really noticed because he knows too much about him already (yet he’s always reading Jeno, anyway), and maybe because they’re so close that Jeno is always comfortable with him. For the most part.

Jaemin knows he won’t be there but he’s still disappointed when he doesn’t see Jeno sitting on their usual table during lunch.

 

 

The next day passes hazily, too. And then the next. And then the fourth day arrives, still with no Jeno in sight during lunch, still with locked bedroom windows and pulled-down blinds, and Jaemin is pretty much gone at this point. Jeno doesn’t respond to his texts, either.

“You look like shit,” Mark comments, on a fine Thursday morning.

Jaemin is sitting on the grassy ground under the tree in the school yard. A Spanish book is laid on his lap, but evidently it was ignored the moment Jaemin read _mi amor_ in one of the reading texts and got reminded of Jeno, again, wretchedly. He’s been moping since.

Mark then squats down next to him and presses his knuckles softly on the obvious dark circles under his eyes. “You okay?” he asks, gently this time.

And then, his unspoken question. _Damn, you miss him that much, huh?_

Jaemin lets Mark pat his head before settling down next to him, his bony shoulders brushing against Jaemin’s. Jaemin considers shaking his head, just to make it seem like he’s not that affected (he is), but Mark already knows the answer, anyway. Mark doesn’t need psychometry to tell that if Jaemin’s mood was a number, it’d be a negative digit.

“Yeah,” he finally replies. “It’s been four days. But you can’t blame me, though. We literally see each other everyday. If not in school, then at home—“

“Dude, nobody’s blaming you,” Mark interrupts. “I just think you need to stop thinking about it too much at night and actually get some sleep. Jisung’s worried, you know.”

“Just Jisung?”

Mark pinches on the bridge of his nose. “Uh, not really. Someone else’s also really worried.”

“Oh. Chenle?”

“Me, dumbass,” Mark says, rolling his eyes. “Borrowing Jeno’s words, it’s not like he’s going to war or something.”

“It truly feels like he is,” Jaemin complains. “I haven’t seen him nor heard from him for four days, Mark. Four, fucking, days.”

“Texts?”

“I know he reads my messages, but he doesn’t reply.”

“D’you want me to check up on him?” Mark asks Jaemin, his eyes fixed at a spot in the distance. His face is blank. “Like, come to his house, maybe? Ask his mom what’s up with him?”

“Nah, I already did that,” Jaemin says miserably. “His mother also doesn’t know what the hell is wrong with him. Plus, he’s never home when I come there, which is odd.”

A pause.

“Not that I’m implying something bad—“ Mark begins, but Jaemin cuts him off.

“You already are, Mark, but carry on.”

“Jaemin… don’t you think he’s avoiding you?”

 

 

**_Nana:_ ** _jeno lee if you’re avoiding me you better square up and tell me why._

[11:43 AM]

[Read 11:57 AM]

 

 

On the fifth day of missing Jeno, everything goes down the hill.

Jisung and Chenle have cram school, so Jaemin is waiting for Mark to see if they can walk home together (at least until they part ways near Donghyuck’s block). However, Mark calls his name from the window a few minutes after Jaemin texts him and tells him that he has urgent EC activities. Though a bit peeved that he has to go home alone for once, Jaemin finally gives up.

On his way home, however, he spots Jeno.

He hasn’t seen his black-haired friend for days that the immediate sight of him shocks Jaemin a little more than it should. He actually trips over a pebble and nearly lands face-first to the ground. Jeno is standing on the footpath that leads into the woods, back facing Jaemin, seemingly busy with opening something. At first Jaemin wonders if it’s just someone else, or if it’s not even human at all – townspeople have been saying that the forest is haunted – but that jacket, that hair, and those shoulders… Jaemin would recognize them anywhere.

He practically runs closer to grab Jeno’s arm.

“Jeno!” Jaemin exclaims, and Jeno turns around, face pale and painted with surprise. “Where have you been, you idiot?!”

“Na—Jaemin.”

Not this _Jaemin_ bullshit again.

“Yeah, I’ve been told that’s my name,” Jaemin responds dryly. He tightens his hold on Jeno’s arm, and Jeno visibly winces. “I haven’t seen you for days. You didn’t respond to my texts even once. You better have an explanation ready.”

“I already told you that I wouldn’t come to school,” Jeno says. His tone is controlled, which sounds a little off, since Jeno doesn’t usually talk this rigidly. Does he really not want to see Jeno that bad? What the hell did he do to deserve this, even?

“You said a couple days at most,” Jaemin reminds him. “It’s been _five_.”

“Well, yeah, things are worse than I thought,” Jeno says. Jaemin looks down at the thing he’s holding, but before he could see what it is, Jeno already hides his hand behind his back. “Can you let go of me now, please?”

Jaemin bites his lower lip. He doesn’t want to, but he lets go of Jeno’s arm.

“Something’s wrong,” Jaemin says finally. Jeno is absolutely refusing to look at him in the eye, and his expression is something that Jaemin doesn’t want to see. His lying face. It’s there again. It’s there again and Jaemin _hates_ it. “Something’s wrong and you’re not telling me.”

Jeno doesn’t respond for a few seconds, but then he says, “It’s not a big deal. Just go home.”

“Jeno, you know I’m not going to do that unless I know for a fact that you’re alright,” Jaemin insists. “And by the way things are going, you are not alright.”

“I’m okay,” Jeno insists. “I won’t be if you won’t go now, though.”

“I’m not leaving until you tell me what your deal is.”

“Jaemin!” Jeno snaps. “You’re pushing it.”

“Listen, why won’t you tell me—“

“ _You_ listen!” Jeno pulls his hand away from Jaemin’s hold. His face is more upset than angry, and it’s what pains Jaemin most. “Just because you’re my best friend and I love you doesn’t mean I have to tell you everything! Go home.”

At any other time, Jaemin would’ve hyperventilated at Jeno’s “I love you”. At any other time, he would’ve slapped Jeno across the face and kiss him right after, and then slap him again, maybe. But this isn’t any other time. Jaemin is anxious and worried and Jeno deprived, while the one he’s been missing doesn’t even want to tell him what’s going on.

Jaemin is pissed.

“You can’t say that to me expecting me to just leave,” Jaemin says, and he hates that his voice has started to grow shaky. He hates this. He hates fighting, he hates fighting Jeno specifically, but he doesn’t want to back down just yet. “You can’t just say—you can’t just say you love me when what you’re doing right now is literally the opposite of that! You’re holding back information from me. You can’t do this.”

“Watch me,” Jeno says, and he finally, finally looks up to Jaemin. His moon eyes that Jaemin loves so much are cold. “Watch me do this to you. Save yourself some of my problems. I’ve said it twice and I will say it again. Go. Home.”

Another long pause. Jeno looks away. Jaemin hears ringing in his ears; his gaze is blurry and his fingers are twitching inside of his jacket pockets. For seconds that feel like years, Jaemin jusy stands there trying to regain his control. Then he steps back and says, “God, I hate you so much.”

Jeno actually laughs at this, but there’s no humor in it. “You really don’t, but sure.”

“Do whatever you want,” Jaemin says. His head is dizzy now, and his thoughts are still all over the place, mainly aiming curses and unsaid screams at Jeno. Why are things the way that they are? Why is Jeno the way that he is? Why is _Jaemin_ the way that he is? “If you don’t want me to care, fine, I won’t.”

The moment “I won’t” left his mouth, Jaemin realizes those are the lies he’s going to deeply regret later. He’s never going to stop caring, never going to stop thinking about them, and Jeno knows that, supposedly. Still doesn’t mean he can just blurt out shit and expect Jeno to trust him, though.

Not that Jeno trusts him that much, anyway. Not when he’s a freak who reads thoughts. Not when he’s invasive and too concerned about Jeno for his own good that it’s annoying. Not when Jeno’s probably too bothered by Jaemin’s power to let them be something else.

Jaemin is half-expecting an equally bitter response, but the Jeno he knows isn’t like that. When he’s still standing quietly, only looking down at his feet, Jaemin exhales and turns around with heavy chest. He needs to get away because _he_ makes things worse than they already are.

It feels like shards of his heart fall with every step he takes.

 

 

Chenle finds him getting lost in his block thirty minutes later.

“Nana!” he calls out, a familiar voice in an unfamiliar surrounding, and Jaemin stops walking. Chenle catches up to him quickly, face bright and grinning until he sees Jaemin’s own expression. Then his smile falters. “Why do you look like—what are you doing here?”

“Huh?” Jaemin says, his mind too disarrayed to understand what Chenle is saying. “Uh, I don’t know. Where is this?”

“This is my block! My house is over there,” Chenle says, pointing at a two-story house in the distance. “Nana, are you okay? You look… lost.”

Jaemin stares at Chenle’s worried eyes. He is lost. He _is_ lost, but not necessarily physically. He’s lost because Jeno doesn’t trust him enough, he’s lost because he’s snapped so badly to someone he wants to cherish forever, he’s lost because he doesn’t know what to do now. His friendship with Jeno is ruined for all he knows, and it’s all because he can’t keep his hands to himself.

It’s all ocean of guilt and fear and anger inside of him, threatening to spill out, but Jaemin just grabs Chenle’s hand and holds it to his chest.

“Lele,” he says, “Tell me everything’s going to be okay, please. I need support right now, or else I might break down and cry. That’d be embarrassing, so I’d rather not do that.”

Chenle does more than that. He crushes his body against Jaemin’s, skinny arms wrapping around Jaemin’s shoulders. His body is warm and small and he smells like Jisung and air-conditioned room, and Jaemin finds himself pressing his cheek to Chenle’s head. It helps ease down the turmoil in his chest, somewhat. Not completely, but it helps.

 “Don’t worry, Nana,” he then says, his voice a bit muffled by Jaemin’s sweater. “Everything’s going to be okay. I’ll help it be okay, whatever it is that’s bothering you. Do you wanna talk about it?”

Jaemin considers this. “Maybe soon, kid.”

Chenle embraces Jaemin for a bit longer, before pulling away and grinning at him. “Come over to my house, then. Let’s stress bake together. I heard from Jisung you used to bake him cookies when you guys were younger?”

Jaemin smiles a little. “Sometimes I still do that, he just doesn’t want to admit it.”

“Really? Can you bake me some, too, then?”

Chenle holds Jaemin’s hand the whole twenty footsteps to his house, and it takes Jaemin more than a moment to realize that even though he’s holding Chenle’s bare hand, his mind-voice is nowhere to be heard.

 

 

Had Donghyuck not visited Jaemin on Sunday afternoon after lunch, he would’ve spent the whole weekend without seeing anyone else but his mom.

“Dude,” Donghyuck says from the doorway, when Jaemin doesn’t even get up from his bed to greet him or anything. He doesn’t have to look up to know the expression Donghyuck is wearing on his face. Disappointment, probably. Maybe even disgust. “My main dude Na Jaemin.”

“Go away, Donghyuck,” Jaemin groans, voice muffled by his pillow. “And isn’t your main dude Mark Lee from Canada? Don’t lie through your teeth like that. You know I hate liars.”

“You’re one yourself, but alright.” Donghyuck sighs, but Jaemin notices he doesn’t deny any of his accusation regarding Mark. There’s silence for a few seconds. Then Jaemin feels him climb up his bed, the mattress dipping as he does. He grunts when Donghyuck nudges him with his knee to give him some space, but he begrudgingly lifts his face up from the pillow and rolls aside.

“Since neither you nor Jeno responded to my texts to hang out,” Donghyuck says, as he fits himself next to Jaemin, squashing him further against the wall, “I came to you instead.”

“Who’s Jeno?” Jaemin murmurs. “Don’t know anyone by that name.”

Donghyuck pauses, a half-smile playing on his heart-shaped lips. “Hmm. To be honest with you, I wasn’t going to bring this up until much later, but since we’re already here… why the hell not. What’s up, Jaemin? What’s gotten you so emo?”

Jaemin closes his eyes and buries his face in the pillow again. “Nothing.”

“You’re the one lying through your teeth now,” Donghyuck says in a teasing manner. Then he pats Jaemin’s cheek, and Jaemin scowls. Still, he doesn’t mind Donghyuck’s touch all that much. “For real, though, you know I’m always on your side whenever you’re fighting Jeno. You can tell me anything.”

“Thanks, I guess.”

Then Jaemin realizes that his mind is still quiet even though Donghyuck is staring so intensely at his face with his hand still on Jaemin’s face. He swallows the nervousness on his tongue as he remembers the same thing that has happened with Chenle last Friday. He’s been thinking about it since, and it pains him to admit this out loud, but Donghyuck has to know.

“Hyuck,” Jaemin says, in a softer voice. “I can’t hear you right now.”

Donghyuck’s gaze flicks down to his own hand as he slowly pulls away. “What?”

“I can’t hear your thoughts. I can’t hear anyone’s thoughts anymore.”

Donghyuck actually props himself up on one elbow to look at Jaemin better. “Wait, what? Does this mean you’ve found a way to subdue our powers? _Permanently?_ ”

“No, calm down,” Jaemin says with a sigh. “It’s just me. It’s the stress, I think, and I’m pretty sure it’s temporary. It’s happened before.”

“What do you mean it’s happened before?”

Jaemin’s left eye twitches. He doesn’t really want to say this, or even remember it because it makes him feel vulnerable, somehow, but it’s just Donghyuck. If Jaemin can’t trust Donghyuck, who else can he trust?

(Mark. He can trust Mark, maybe, but Mark hasn’t been friends with him for as long as Donghyuck has.)

“Did you remember that one time in seventh grade when I got into an argument with Jeno over some dumb English coursework?” Jaemin says. He cringes at the memory. It was so stupid, he still can’t believe they actually fought because of that.

“Yeah. I wasn’t around, which sucks because I really wanna see the look on Jeno’s face when you called him useless—“

“He’s _not_ useless and you know none of us mean it whenever we call him that,” Jaemin interrupts, smacking Donghyuck’s chest as he talks. Donghyuck chokes out a loud giggle. “But that’s beside the point. After that, uh, I also couldn’t read anyone. For a week, I think, until Jeno and I made up again.”

A short pause as Donghyuck takes in Jaemin’s words. His face is soft, full of wonder, and Jaemin thinks that maybe Donghyuck isn’t as emotionally inaccessible as he often makes it look. (But to be fair, he’s only like that when he’s with Mark, not Jaemin. Everyone’s an exception with Jaemin.)

“So you’re saying,” he finally says, putting fingers up in the air as if it helps him think, “That whenever you fight with Jeno, your power takes a vacay?”

“Not how I would word it, but yeah,” Jaemin says. He shrugs. “Not necessarily because of Jeno, maybe, but it just so happens that he stresses me out most.”

“Because you love him.”

Jaemin doesn’t even blink. “With all my heart.”

“Then why do you gotta make this so difficult?”

Jaemin glares at him. “It wasn’t me this time!”

“ _This_ time _._ ”

“If you’re here to make me feel worse, Donghyuck, let me show you to the door.”

Donghyuck scoffs. “I already know where it is. But listen, aren’t you gonna ask me how did I find out that you’re fighting with Jeno?”

“Uh, because none of us responded to your texts?”

“Screw you, that too. But here,” Donghyuck says, and he flicks his fingers in front of Jaemin’s face. “You can’t read me right now, but you really don’t have to with me. I can just show you, you know? We’re sorta one of a kind here.”

Jaemin stares blankly at the opposite wall behind Donghyuck, silently agreeing, but then his mind is filled with something else. Something that isn’t _his_ own thoughts. He’s given a brilliant imagery of Chenle’s backyard. Mark is leaning on the fence, face scrunched, while Jisung and Chenle are sitting on the grassy ground, their legs pressed against each other as they talk. Renjun is taking shelter underneath the shades of a tree a few feet away from them.

“Y’know,” Mark says, crossing and uncrossing his arms. “They’re both very late.”

Jaemin smacks his own hand against his face when he realizes when this scene had taken place. “Shit… I forgot we were supposed to go to the lot yesterday.”

“Yeah, you did,” Donghyuck says, but he sounds amused more than anything. “But please, continue watching.”

Jaemin complies. He closes his eyes again and lets Donghyuck’s mind take him back to the Saturday he’s missed. After Mark finished talking, Chenle lifts up his face and tells him, “Nana, uh, is probably sick. He didn’t look too good last Friday, so I don’t think he’s going to make it today.”

Mark looks surprised, but not as surprised as Jisung, who looked as if Chenle had just hit him across the face. “Really?”

Donghyuck doesn’t seem to miss Jisung’s shock, either. If anything, it’s too apparent to ignore. “What’s wrong, Jisung?”

Jisung startles. “Uh, nothing. I just don’t think Jeno will make it, either.”

“How did you know that?” Donghyuck asks. “You’re friends with Jeno now or something?”

“Oh, lay off me. I just _know_ , okay?”

Mark turns to look at Donghyuck. “Do you think the two of them planned this?”

Donghyuck shrugs, but Jisung is the one who responds. “No they didn’t.”

Once again, Donghyuck is the one who decides to point this out. “You seem to know something we don’t. Did you meet them this morning?”

Jisung shakes his head. “I didn’t. I told you I just know. A good guess.”

“A good guess my ass,” Donghyuck comments, as he lets his vision fades from Jaemin’s mind. He opens his eyes again, feeling a little out of it. Donghyuck’s visions always leave him this jittery. “He knows something, that little devil.”

“I did stumble across Chenle last Friday, right after… the fight,” Jaemin tells him. “We stress baked in his house together, which was cool. But I have no idea how could Jisung know anything about Jeno.”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Donghyuck says. And with that, he rolls to his side and gets up from the bed. “Now that I’ve confirmed it, my business here is done. Oh, but Mark told me to tell you that if you miss school tomorrow just to avoid Jeno, he’s going to make you regret it.”

“Mark Lee, threatening _me?_ ” Jaemin scoffs. “He’s out of his mind.”

“ _You_ ’re out of your mind because of Jeno Lee, I don’t think you can talk,” Donghyuck says smoothly, before he waves and and walks out of the door. “Catch you later, lover boy.”

 

 

Today is the worst Monday Jaemin has ever experienced, and that’s something bad because it hasn’t even started yet.

From the very moment he wakes up in the morning, he’s already dreading everything. School, mostly. What if he walks out of his house at the same time Jeno does? What if he stumbles across Jeno in the main street? What if they see each other in the hallway during breaks? What about lunch? They’re all probably going to eat together as per usual and Jaemin doesn’t look forward to the idea of being anywhere where Jeno is. But worse, the absolute _worst_ , what if Jeno still doesn’t show up to school? What if he’s still so mad that he won’t even see Jaemin for god knows how long?

Jaemin spends more than an hour sitting on his bed drowning in his own fears before his mother knocks on his bedroom door and tells him he’s going to be late.

As he buttons up his shirt and grabs his backpack from his study chair, Jaemin looks at his window. He thinks about it for a couple of minutes, but he finally gives in and opens the curtain.

Just a little. Just to see for a bit.

Jeno’s window is still closed, his blinds down and room dark. Jaemin’s heart falls again inside of his chest, and he looks down disappointedly. He’s not sure what his expectation was, but even though the sunlight bouncing off Jaemin’s roof creates a beautiful shade of colors underneath Jeno’s windowsill, Jaemin is filled with too much longing to care.

 

 

Jaemin expects Mark to be waiting near his locker when he arrives, but instead of Mark, there’s just Renjun there. Jaemin doesn’t look at him in the eye when he steps aside to let Jaemin stuff his books inside.

“Jaemin,” Renjun says, when Jaemin still doesn’t say anything. His voice is so gentle, it almost makes Jaemin question why he even got jealous of Renjun in the first place. “You’re gonna have a pretty bad day today, just saying.”

Jaemin exhales. He’s foreseen this, though with a method different than Renjun’s. Renjun’s a precog, but Jaemin has something else – it’s called anxiety, and usually its predictions are quite spot-on, too.

“I guess so. I’m not ready, but I can’t do anything about it, can I?”

“Yeah, probably no,” Renjun says. “But it’s okay. It’s gonna pass.”

Jaemin looks at the photograph plastered on his locker door again, and turns to look at Renjun now. “C’mon, Injun. Is there really no way for me to avoid whatever disaster is going to befall me today?”

Renjun shrugs. “Not that I know of. Unless you want to go home right now, which I don’t recommend because Mark is already walking here and he’s going to be upset if you just suddenly leave—hi, Mark.”

“Hey,” Mark says, his tone strained from the get-go. Jaemin wants to bang his head against the nearest hard surface – which happens to be his locker door, but Mark seems to know what he’s thinking, because he grabs Jaemin by the back of his jacket and shoves him aside, away from the locker. “Jaemin, good morning. What were you just about to do?”

“Whatever happens today, please don’t hold it against me,” Jaemin pleads.

The older frowns. “Do you plan to kill someone or what?”

 _Close enough_ , Jaemin thinks with a wince. _That someone is myself, mostly, so._

“No, but today’s going to be a bad day.”

“You trust Renjun too much,” Mark comments dryly. “Let’s go. Geo’s waiting.”

 

 

Maybe Mark is right that Jaemin trusts Renjun (and his visions) too much, but it’s also a fact that Renjun’s prediction rarely misses. When Jaemin enters the cafeteria for lunch, his heart is beating so hard inside of him that he feels like he’s going to explode. He can’t garner enough focus to get food, so Mark gives in and helps him with that.

Their usual table is still empty when they sit down there, and Jaemin can breathe easy for a second. But his peace only lasts for a few minutes because soon after that, Jisung and Chenle arrive, and following a little behind them is Jeno Lee himself – the one he’s been dreading this whole time, but also missing so much he’s ready to stand up and fight again.

Love is weird and annoying in its own way.

Jeno graciously picks a seat across of Mark so that both he and Jaemin will be at the opposite end of the table. Jaemin doesn’t know if he should be grateful or disappointed because of that, but he tries not to think about it. Even if his skin is suddenly cold and his throat is dry, he doesn’t look at Jeno even once.

Hardest thing he’s ever done in his life, really, other than maybe telling Jeno that he “won’t care anymore”.

If his friends notice the heavy atmosphere and uncharacteristic silence between the two of them, they don’t let it show. This must’ve been what Renjun has foreseen – the super awkward lunchtime. Mark is steadily keeping a conversation going with the youngest two, with Renjun occasionally joining in, but both Jaemin and Jeno absolutely keep to themselves until the break ends.

Jeno stands up so quick Jaemin is actually impressed he didn’t knock his own knee against the table. Then he murmurs a vague _see you guys later_ at them, before walking away and vanishing right out of the cafeteria door.

 _Wow_ , Jaemin bitterly thinks to himself, when all heads (except for Renjun) turn to look at him after Jeno has gone. _Way to make it even more obvious, Jeno Lee._

Much to his relief, though, none of them say anything.

 

 

The thing actually goes on for two more days until Mark catches Jaemin by the sleeve after school ends on Wednesday afternoon and drags him to the hall downstairs.

“You need to stop that,” Mark says, when Jaemin just lets Mark gently press him against his own locker. The older boy doesn’t look angry; he just looks worried. He crosses his arms and looks at Jaemin expectantly, but the younger holds up a finger before Mark can say anything else.

“First of all,” he says, “I don’t know if Donghyuck has told you anything, but let me say it anyway. It wasn’t me this time. Second, do you think I’m doing this on purpose? Do you think I like doing this?”

“I know none of you don’t, which is why I’m telling _you_ to stop because you’re supposed to be the more reasonable one between the two of you,” Mark says, before he steps back and rubs his forehead. He looks so tired that Jaemin feels sorry for him all of the sudden. “I didn’t want to do this, honestly, but the kids are worried and I feel obligated to do something about it.”

“You’re not obligated to do anything, Mark,” Jaemin reminds him mildly.

“Can you at least tell me what’s wrong, or is that too much to ask?” Mark asks.

He looks at Jaemin rather sadly, and Jaemin suddenly realizes that out of all his friends, Mark is probably the only one person in their original group of friends that he hasn’t fought seriously before. He’s gone on a couple of heated fights with both Jeno and Donghyuck before (given that they’ve been friends for all their lives). He’s also given Jisung the cold treatment once, when they were younger. But Mark… other than a few of light arguments, Jaemin has never really gotten into a fight with Mark. Not that he wants to, anyway, but that’s a nice thought.

Jaemin takes a deep breath. “I don’t feel like telling anyone anything, so don’t be offended. Just… just know that this’ll sort out on its own.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because it always does.”

As soon as Jaemin said it, he knows that he meant it. It’s true. He feels like it’s true, and he knows for a fact, somehow, that it _is_ true. No matter how bad it gets, Jeno will always gravitate back to Jaemin, and Jaemin will always catch him by the hand and hold him close. That’s just how it works.

Mark stares at Jaemin for a little longer, eyes unsure, but he finally gives in. “Okay. I hope I can trust you.”

Jaemin hopes he can trust himself, too.

 

 

“Whatever is going on between the two of you, you need to stop it.”

That is only the second time this week that Jaemin has heard the words “you need to stop” being uttered to him, but he already feels like he’s had enough.

He looks up from where he’s sitting on Mark’s desk, eyes narrowing down at the speaker. Donghyuck, who is splayed on Mark’s bed playing with his gameboy as per usual, also looks up. Jisung is standing on the doorway, hands on his hips, sweat dripping down his face as if he’s just teleported the whole mile from school to the Lee house. (He probably did. Jaemin’s gonna kill him later.)

“Whaddaya mean?” Donghyuck asks before Jaemin can say anything, and he catches friend’s eye before looking back to his game. “Me and Jaemin are doing alright, kid. Can’t you see we’re hanging out nice and hot right now?”

“Not you, weirdo,” Jisung says in disdain. He nods his head at Jaemin, who’s now staring blankly at his papers. “Nana. Stop this.”

“Me?” Jaemin asks, trying to fake ignorance even though he knows exactly where Jisung is going. “What’s up with me?”

“What’s up with you and Jen—“

“Yup, stop right there, my child,” Donghyuck interrupts, and he drops his gameboy to the mattress and rolls off the bed to sit on the edge of the mattress, giving Jisung a stern glare right after. “We don’t bring up _that_ name in this household.”

Mark’s voice reverberates from the first floor. “This isn’t even your house, Donghyuck.”

“Shut up, Canada. Now, Jisung, we call that… that disappointment of a person ‘Jaemin’s dumb boyfriend’. You got that?”

“He’s not my dumb boyfriend,” Jaemin says a little tiredly from the desk. _I wish he was, though,_ he adds silently. _So I’d be justified to beat him up for making me feel this way._

“You wish he was,” Donghyuck says, as if he’s reading Jaemin’s mind. “Okay, Jisungie. Continue. What’s up with Jaemin and his dumb boyfriend?”

“Don’t you know that they’re fighting?”

Keeping silent is one thing, but hearing Jisung spelling it out that he’s on some kind of cold of war with Jeno (he is) makes Jaemin feel even worse. He audibly sighs at this, putting his elbow on the desk and leaning his head on his arm.

Donghyuck crosses his legs. “Yeah, I noticed. Jaemin’s never this uncharacteristically quiet unless he’s fighting Jeno.”

“Jaemin’s dumb boyfriend,” Jaemin reminds quietly.

“Oh yeah. Y’know what I mean. I just don’t know what caused it.”

“I haven’t told any of you because you’re all useless,” Jaemin wails. “And if Jeno wants to keep his business personal, I’m doing the same.”

“One, smartass, you basically just told us,” Donghyuck begins. “Two, how dare you say we’re useless when _you_ are literally the one being powerless right now. Third of all, you’re petty as hell, damn. Not even Mark—”

“Shut up, Donghyuck,” Jisung and Jaemin say at the same time. Then Jisung adds, “What do you mean Nana’s powerless?”

Donghyuck points at Jaemin, who holds up both of his hands. “Try it for yourself. He can’t read anyone right now.”

“What? But why?”

Jisung actually comes closer to check. He curls his fingers on top Jaemin’s palm and looks at him, eyes wide and surprised when Jaemin just stares back at him wordlessly. He really does feel nothing from Jisung. No feelings, no thoughts, nothing. His power is dead – all because of Jeno.

“Wow, it’s true,” Jisung says. “I was screaming my head off inside here and you didn’t react at all. You really can’t read me?”

“Told you Jaemin’s useless when he’s sentimental,” Donghyuck comments.

Jaemin sighs. “I’m not sentimental, Donghyuck. I’m stressed. I told you this last Sunday. What is wrong with you?”

“Eh, same difference,” Donghyuck says, shrugging. “What’re you here for, Jisung? I thought you’re Jeno’s bestie now, since you guys seem pretty closer ever since Jaemin refused to talk to him.”

Jisung throws Donghyuck a dirty look. “Please. Just because I was with him the day he fought with Nana—“

Jaemin grabs hold of Jisung’s hand that was slipping away from his. “What? What did you just say?”

“Uh, I was with him on Friday?”

“You were?!”

Jaemin stands up so quick from Mark’s chair that he almost topples over. Donghyuck whistles, but Jaemin ignores him and clutches Jisung by his shoulders. Jisung is tall for his age, but he seems to shrink in size when Jaemin shakes him.

“What did Jeno say? Did he say anything about me? Was he mad at me? He must’ve been, Christ, I know he _is_ , but did he say anything about me? Did he cry because I sure did—“

“Yo, dude,” Donghyuck calls out, “Calm down, the kid’s catatonic.”

Jisung actually needs a few seconds to get over Jaemin’s sudden interest and says back, equally in disbelief, “You? _You?_ Who cares about you when your boyfriend fu—“

“Language!”

“— _freaking_ mistook me for his therapist or something. I was so emotionally distressed! That was child labor, I’m telling you!”

“What do you mean he mistook you for his therapist?” Jaemin asks. “Did you—wait. How did you even meet him on Friday? He was… in the woods…”

Jaemin’s voice dies out, and then it all clicks. Chenle came home from cram school alone _because_ Jisung was in the woods practicing, and Jeno was also in the woods, doing whatever the hell he was doing that he doesn’t want Jaemin to know. Jaemin’s fingers dig even deeper into Jisung’s skin, and he’s filled with so much unfamiliar hope that he _almost_ feels like he could hear Jisung’s thought again.

“Jisung,” Jaemin says, “Did you see what he was doing in there?”

“Jaemin,” Donghyuck suddenly reminds him, his voice more serious now. “Let go. You’ll bruise him.”

Jaemin blinks, and looks down. He’s holding Jisung so hard that the younger’s wincing, and he immediately lets go of his hands. “Sorry,” he says, in a softer voice. “Sorry, Jisung. But can you tell me what he was doing?”

“I… I’m not sure if I can tell you,” Jisung said. His voice is uncharacteristically calm. “Because Jeno told me not to tell. Especially not to tell _you_. Or Donghyuck.”

Donghyuck suddenly stands up and makes his way out of the door noisily. “Okay, I guess I’ll just… poof away, then. Have a nice talk.”

“Donghyuck, come back,” Jaemin calls out to him, but Donghyuck has already run down the stairs. “Spill it, Jisung. What Jeno doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” A rather ironic line, considering what Jaemin doesn’t know of Jeno does hurt _him_ , but whatever.

Jisung fiddles with his fingers. When he still doesn’t look like he’s going to talk, Jaemin sighs and puts his hand on Jisung’s shoulder. “If you tell me now, I swear I will try my best to fix it,” he promises. “My very best, Jisung. I’ll try to make us the same again. Don’t you want that?”

“I don’t even like Jeno that much,” Jisung admits, “But I hate seeing you guys like this. It’s weird. It’s not normal. Plus, it makes our lunchtime awkward.”

Jaemin grimaces. “You’re right about that. More the reason to tell me, then, because that idiot absolutely refuses to do that.”

It takes Jisung a few more minutes to collect his seemingly dwindling courage. Then he looks up at Jaemin, eyes serious and mouth forming a straight line. “Jeno is afraid.”

A pause.

“Of what?” Jaemin asks carefully.

“Not sure,” Jisung says. “He didn’t exactly tell me, but he told me he is. He… he was mainly upset because his squirrel was dying.”

The gears inside of Jaemin’s mind gyrate slowly but surely. “Squirrel… you mean Charmandee. The baby squirrel, right?”

Jisung nodded. “He was holding it when I found him in the woods. And uh, he was… crying. I’ve never seen him cry before, so I couldn’t tease him even if I wanted to—“ At this Jaemin glares at Jisung, who seems to shrink in size, “—so I asked him what was wrong.”

Jaemin chews on the inside of his cheek. “Hold up, let me just try to read you again.”

“Huh? But you said your power—“

“That’s why I said _try_ , kid,” Jaemin says. He presses his hand on Jisung’s cheek and tells him to think of the day he met Jeno in the woods. “You can’t recount to save your life,” Jaemin adds, and Jisung grins apologetically.

At first, Jaemin senses nothing. He just feels Jisung’s warm skin against his palm, and also Jisung’s worried gaze on him that he blatantly ignores. His mind is still quiet, empty of anyone else’s thoughts.

 _Come on, Na Jaemin,_ he thinks, brows furrowed close together. _I want to know what the hell is wrong with the love of my life, possibly. Come back to me. Let me read him. Let me_ know _._

After repeating the thought a couple of times, it comes back to him in small bursts: Jisung’s slurred mind-voice, scattered memories, bits and pieces of Jeno’s face. Jaemin feels his inside melts with relief. He still can do this. He still can fix things, maybe, with this.

 _Nana_ , Jisung says. _Nana, hey._

“I hear you,” Jaemin says, and he doesn’t know why, but he’s smiling. It’s weak; Jisung’s mind-voice is fading in and out of his head like a bad radio signal, but the images in his mind is vivid enough for him. “I hear you, Jisung. Now think back.”

Jisung closes his eyes, for whatever reason, and Jaemin holds back a smile. Jisung is never _not_ adorable. Then he also closes his eyes and focuses on the unstable wave that is Jisung’s thought.

In the beginning, all he can see is just blurry images of trees and dirt. Then the pictures expand, and Jaemin can see more. Jisung tripping over a log as he tries to teleport from one spot to another and finding Jeno right in front of him, leaning against a tree trunk and holding something small in his arms. Something small that Jaemin recognizes as Charmandee, no longer breathing and alive. Jaemin’s heart breaks a little.

 _Aw_ , he thinks sadly. _You don’t deserve that, Jeno._

Jeno looks equally as surprised as Jisung is, and Jaemin isn’t so sure he wants to continue this anymore, because the actual sight of Jeno with tears on his cheeks is way, way more than he could take. He wishes he could tear his gaze away, but it’s just a memory. He can’t escape it. Plus, he needs this.

“Jeno,” Jisung says, and Jaemin is actually impressed Jisung walks up to Jeno to touch his arm in a somewhat comforting manner. “Jeno, man, hey. Are you _crying?_ ”

“Shut up, what do you think?” Jeno replies, voice distraught and frail. Ugh, Jaemin kinda wants to cry too, now. “How could I not cry when my—my friend just died and I also had screwed up my friendship with Jaemin?”

“Whoa, okay, calm down,” Jisung says. He sounds unsure of what to do. Jaemin doesn’t blame him. “What do you mean you screwed up your friendship with Jaemin? Did you… did you guys fight?”

Jaemin half-expects Jeno to snap again, but he doesn’t. Instead, he wipes his face with his sleeve and snorts. “Yeah, we did. My fault, though. Kinda.”

“Good, because I was just about to fight you too if you say it’s Nana’s fault,” Jisung says. (Real time Jaemin in Mark’s bedroom pinches Jisung’s shoulder, and he yelps.) “Just kidding, Jeno. I’m not that petty. Also… we should bury your friend. You can’t hold him like that forever.”

Jisung points carefully at Charmandee’s lifeless body in Jeno’s arms, and Jeno slowly nods. Still with his hand on Jeno’s arm, Jisung pulls him away from the tree and they both search for a place. It feels like forever for Jaemin until they finally settle on a secluded spot in the woods, under another young sequioa tree that is similar to the one near their usual hangout place.

“Here is good,” Jeno says, and Jisung helps him make a hole big enough to fit Charmandee’s body.

“Your friend,” Jisung begins, as they both dig with their hands. “What’s his name?”

“Charmandee,” Jeno replies quietly. “He had been sick for awhile. I… I tried to cure him, but it just couldn’t work out. I wanted to stay with him until the end.”

“And you did. Is this why you’ve been missing school lately?”

“Yeah,” Jeno says. Then his face dims. “Jisung, I’m afraid.”

Jisung stops digging for awhile, but then he continues. “Of what?”

Jeno doesn’t respond to that. Instead, he says, “How do I get Jaemin to like me?”

Jisung stops digging again. He puts his hand on Jeno’s knee and looks at him dead in the eye as he says, “Are you dumb?”

Jeno’s tone is ice. “Do you want to die?”

“No, I’m sorry. Please don’t kill me. But seriously, you’re so dumb!” Jisung complains. “What do you mean ‘how do I get Jaemin to like me’? You two are fucking married, what the heck.”

“You think so? Also, language. Jaemin’s gonna kill you for that.”

Jisung murmurs something under his breath that both Jeno and Jaemin don’t quite catch, but Jaemin knows it can’t be something nice. Probably another swearword. “Jeno, he’s so into you. You’re so into him. What’s the problem here?”

“Me, probably.”

Jisung looks up again from Charmandee’s grave, which has now been decorated with small white flowers Jisung found on the other side of the sequioa tree. “You know what? I do agree with that.”

“Can you stop roasting me for like one minute? I’m trying to be nice with you here—“

“Your fight with Nana,” Jisung cuts him off, “Why do you think it’s your fault? It probably is, don’t get me wrong, but why do you think that?”

Jeno pauses. His fingers rake through the dirt of the grave mindlessly. “Because I didn’t tell him about this. And it made him mad.”

“Why didn’t you?” Jisung asks again. “He could’ve helped you better than me. He’s good at this. It’s like, his lifelong duty to take care of people. To take care of _us_.”

“I know,” Jeno says, and Jaemin is a little surprised to hear the frustration in his voice. “I _know_ he’s good at this. Exactly why I don’t want to tell him. Because—because this is nothing. This is something stupid that he shouldn’t bother himself with. I don’t want him to think that I’m weak.”

At this point, Donghyuck enters the room again and Jaemin lets go of Jisung’s arm, effectively cutting off the memory.

“Whoa,” Donghyuck says, when Jaemin stumbles back and has to grab hold of the chair to regain balance. “What just happened? Are you two done with the secret convo?”

Everything is crystal clear now.

 

 

It has been years since the last time he’d done this, but Jaemin’s mind is all made up already. He’s got one foot on the trunk of the tree, and is now looking up at Jeno’s bedroom window. He doesn’t know _how_ he knows, but it doesn’t seem to be locked. So Jaemin digs his fingers into the wood and begins to climb. It hurts his hands, but he ignores the pain. It’s nothing compared not talking to Jeno, anyway.

He slings one leg over the second tallest branch of the tree and slowly slides closer toward the window. When he leans forward carefully and pulls the window open with one hand, it swings outward easily. It makes a soft, almost inaudible creaking sound as it does, and Jaemin freezes for a second. When there’s still no sign of movement from inside the room, he heaves a relieved sigh and hooks his hands on the sill, before he pushes himself in.

Jeno’s bedroom is dark. The only source of light is the dimming lamp on the bedside table, and when Jaemin’s gaze follows where it shines its light on, he spots Jeno on his bed, blanket over half of his head with his back facing him. His black strands are sticking up everywhere, and even if Jaemin can’t see his face, Jeno is still the most adorable boy he’s ever seen.

Jaemin’s heart halts for a moment when Jeno suddenly shifts, clearly awake. Has Jaemin’s entrance woken him up? He doesn’t turn or show any sign that he’s acknowledging Jaemin’s presence there, though. Jaemin finally swallows back his unease and takes a step forward, but is stopped once again when Jeno suddenly says, “Take off your shoes first.”

Jaemin’s breath momentarily stops, too. Then silently, without saying anything, he bends down to untie his laces and pulls off his sneakers. He leaves them under the window and turns to walk toward the bed again. This time, Jeno doesn’t make a sound, not even when Jaemin hesitantly sits down on the edge of the mattress, his lower back hitting Jeno’s legs.

For a few seconds, they only stay there in silence. Jaemin can’t keep his eyes off Jeno’s half-hidden face, can’t look away from his messy hair, or the way his fingers wrap around the corner of his pillowcase. Jeno’s breathing has become a bit ragged now, and Jaemin wonders if he’s feeling as nervous as he is. Maybe he is. This comforts him, somewhat.

“Jeno,” Jaemin whispers, when Jeno still doesn’t say anything.

“Yeah?”

His tone is mild. There’s not an ounce of anger Jaemin has heard last week, and Jaemin swears his fretful heart liquesces so quick it’s flooding his stomach with relief.

“I love you?” Jaemin says, a bit hesitantly. His hand is hovering on top of Jeno’s barely visible shoulders. His fingers are shaking, hungry for Jeno’s thoughts, greatly missing Jeno’s comforting mind-voice, but he’s too afraid to reach out again. Then Jeno abruptly flings his blanket off him to sit upright, and Jaemin’s breath hitches because Jeno’s face gets so much closer than he’s expected. Jaemin instinctively pulls his hand to his chest.

“Nana,” Jeno says, his voice still calm and controlled. He’s staring right into Jaemin’s eyes, and Jaemin wishes his own thoughts were just as steady as Jeno’s expression. “You know I love you too, but that’s not how you apologize.”

“How do you want me to do this, then?” Jaemin asks quietly. “Sorry that I worry too much? Sorry that I’m too attached to you? Sorry that I want you to always be fine?”

“You’re even more difficult than Donghyuck, you know that?” Jeno says. He reaches his hand up to try and fix his messy hair, before he lets his arm falls back down on top of his lap. “I’m human. I can’t always be fine.”

“I could’ve made you feel fine,” Jaemin insists. “Or better, at least. But you didn’t let me.”

“Are you here to make up or to fight more?” Jeno demands. “Because I don’t want another fight. I _didn’t_ want to fight in the first place. I don’t know about you, but this thing – us not talking. It’s really wearing me down. I don’t like it.”

“Do you think _I_ like it?” Jaemin shoots back. Jeno shrugs, and Jaemin scowls before he continues, “If I did, Jeno, why would I be here?”

Jeno has the audacity to snort mockingly, and it puts a little smile on Jaemin’s face. “Because you love me and you can’t afford to lose me?”

“I could say the same about you, really.”

“Mayhaps.”

Jaemin looks away, and his gaze lands on the open windows. “Why isn’t your window locked, Jen? It’s rainy season, you’ll catch a cold.”

“I figured you’d be coming sooner or later anyway, so I’ve been leaving it open since Friday night,” Jeno replies. “And I was right. You did come for me.”

“Sorry to disappoint, but I came for the sake of my own conscience.”

“ _And_ to confess your undying love for me.”

Jaemin turns to look at Jeno again. “Maybe. I’ll consider doing that properly after you tell me what your deal is.”

“What my deal _was_ ,” Jeno corrects him. “You already know, anyway. Jisung’s told you, hasn’t he? He was there, after all.”

“I didn’t ask you what caused you to be so weird as of late. I already know that. I asked you _why_ did you have to hide it from me. Me, of all people,” Jaemin says. Then he sighs. “Seventeen years, Jeno Lee. We’ve been friends for seventeen years. Have a little trust in me. No matter how small or dumb the problem is, you can always trust me. You know that. So why didn’t you?”

There’s a long pause as Jeno picks at a loose thread on his blanket. Jaemin waits for his reply patiently, hands on his lap, watching Jeno’s slim fingers move about in silence. He really wants to hold Jeno’s hands, really wants to kiss his stupidly handsome face, but he holds himself back because _this_ needs to be done first.

“It’s unfair,” Jeno finally says, after such a long pause that Jaemin thought he wasn’t going to talk at all. “It’s unfair that you can hide everything from me, but I can’t.”

Jaemin’s lips split apart in surprise, but he’s too shocked that he can’t say anything.

“You’re so cautious around people now,” Jeno continues. “You used to be bright and open, but after we became… weird like this, you’re not anymore. It’s fine. It’s fine because you’re still the same to me. It’s fine because I know you don’t do it on purpose. It’s fine because I finally feel like I can protect you.”

“You _feel?_ ” Jaemin asks softly. He wants to hold Jeno’s hand, but controls himself because he’s afraid Jeno will just shrug him off again. He probably won’t, but Jaemin’s not taking any risk now. “You can always protect me, Jen. You don’t have to, but you can.”

“I can’t do that if I’m weak.” His voice cracks, and Jaemin feels like someone has just punched him in the gut.

 _Screw everything,_ Jaemin thinks as he grabs hold of Jeno’s shaky hand as quick as he can and holds it against his own chest. Jeno’s skin is warm and soft, and oh, _oh_ , Jaemin truly has been missing this so much. He’s been missing Jeno’s familiar thoughts, even if the older is filled with fear and vulnerability and guilt. He’s still missing him a lot even if Jeno’s negativity is something he’s never really sensed before. He has finally found that one piece of puzzle that Jeno had done his best hiding, and it makes him feel complete again after days of fading thoughts and dwindling mind-voices.

“You’re not weak. Who said that? Let me fight them.”

“I did,” Jeno said with a sniff. “And you did fight me, too.”

“Then you’re a goddamn idiot, and I’m glad I fought you if that means you’ll be owning up like this,” Jaemin says, tightening his hold around Jeno’s hand. “You said it yourself earlier. You’re human. You can’t always be fine. That doesn’t mean you’re weak. You’re never weak to me, Jen. Never are, never have been, never will be.”

Jeno purses his lips, but he doesn’t say anything. Jaemin exhales, and he carefully lets go of Jeno’s hand to hold Jeno’s face with both of his now. Jeno obediently lifts his face up with the pressure of Jaemin’s hands on his cheeks, and Jaemin wants to sigh so loud because Jeno’s thoughts are even more clearer now. His mind is disorderly, but it’s still _him_. Jaemin’s not gonna complain.

“Repeat after me, you dumbass,” Jaemin says softly. “’I am not weak.’”

When Jeno still doesn’t say anything, Jaemin takes his hands off only to smack them together again on his cheeks with a loud whack. Jeno loudly yells, but Jaemin shushes him immediately.

“I said repeat after me!” he presses. “’I am not weak.’ Say it.”

“I am not weak,” Jeno dejectedly reprises. “I’m not weak. There you go.”

“Good. Now, ‘I will protect Na Jaemin even if I’m sad.’ Say it, moon eyes.”

Jeno’s thin lips widen into a slight smile. “I will protect you even if I’m sad.”

“That’s not what I said. Repeat _exactly_ what I said. Say my name and mean it.”

“I will protect you, Na Jaemin, even if I’m sad or mad or whatever, in sickness and in health, in life and death,” Jeno says solemnly. Jaemin’s heart is beating so hard in his chest. This is unreal. This is so unreal. “Forever and ever. Are you happy now?”

 _Elated_ , Jaemin wants to reply, because it _is_ real, because Jaemin can _see_ everything happening with his own eyes and can _feel_ everything happening with his own senses. Jeno’s hand curls on Jaemin’s wrist, and his eyes are narrow, almost heavy. Jaemin stares at the way Jeno’s skin dips gently under the pressure of his fingers, at the way his lashes brush down on his cheeks when he looks down, the way his lips divide when he breathes through his mouth.

Jeno’s lips, though. Jaemin remembers the hot summer day in his bedroom, windows wide open for air, glasses of lemonade on the carpeted floor, with them and their knees pressed together against each other and Jeno’s palms on his face and his lips against his. Now their position is switched: Jaemin is the one holding Jeno by the face, and he tilts the older’s face a little to the side, just like Jeno did two years ago.

 _How should we do this_ , Jaemin thinks, because he really, _really_ wants to kiss Jeno now. (He’d kill for it, even.)

“Nana,” Jeno suddenly says, and Jaemin’s gaze flicks up to his eyes again. There are nothing there but crescent moons. “Do you remember that day when we first kissed?”

Oh.

 _Is this a trick question_ , Jaemin thinks, as his head starts spinning again. He is once more disoriented, but he manages to rasp out a, “Yeah, I do, why?”

Jeno pauses, before he closes his eyes and then opens it again. He looks like he’s collecting his scattered thoughts or something. Jaemin is, too.

“Wanna do it again?”

 

 

It’s been two years, but Jeno still tastes the same.

 

 

“Jen,” Jaemin asks in between kisses, even though Jeno keeps chasing his lips with a hand on the back of Jaemin’s neck, “Why do you taste like breakfast jam?”

“Excuse you, I _know_ I taste good.”

“I wasn’t saying it’s a bad taste, I was just wondering—“

“Shut the hell up, Nana.”

In the end, Jeno shuts him up twice; once with spoken words, and once with his own mouth as Jaemin lifts himself up to put his legs on either side of Jeno’s hips and pushes him down to the bed, kissing the living hell out of him.

 

 

Jaemin thought his friends would complain less now that he and Jeno have finally become A Thing, but apparently not. Jisung groans loudly whenever they enter the room with their hands attached, while Mark just blinks and looks away, clearing his throat as he does. Renjun and Chenle barely look like they’re surprised when at times Jeno just suddenly leans his face to Jaemin closer than necessary. But Donghyuck… Donghyuck is always complaining.

(For a good reason, too, Jaemin guesses.)

“Guys,” Donghyuck comments, tone extremely dry and tired as he drops his spoon back into his bowl and closes his eyes. “Are you serious? Right in front of my salad?”

“Donghyuck, that’s ice cream,” Jaemins says kindly. Jeno lifts his head from Jaemin’s lap to give Donghyuck a peace sign, before he goes back to his original position with Jaemin’s fingers weaving in between his hair. “We’re not even making out right now, consider yourself lucky.”

“I have the worst luck of all,” Donghyuck says as he stands up to leave the room. They both still hear his whinings through the walls. “I don’t know why you asked me to hang if I’m just going to thirdwheel you lovesick dimwits. I deserve better! Like, maybe Mark! I’m outta here.”

“More ice cream for us, I guess,” Jeno simply says, when their friend leaves with the sound of Jaemin’s front door loudly slamming into a close behind him. “What do you think?”

“I think we should make out now that Donghyuck’s gone for good.”

Jeno pretends to gasp softly. “Your mind… I like it.”

“You like _everything_ about me, Jeno Lee.”

And maybe Jeno just laughs it off and doesn’t say ‘I do’ like Jaemin expects him to (screw him), but when he presses his hands full on his face and leans down to kiss him a few moments later, every fiber of Jeno’s being yells at him that he does indeed love everything about him, so all is well.

 

 

There’s another pebble hitting Jaemin’s window at six in the morning, and the boy rolls of his bed with a groan. If it wasn’t for Jeno, he swears he wouldn’t have even woken up. It’s Sunday, for god’s sake.

“Listen, I know you know I love you more than anything in the world but I still have my limit,” Jaemin immediately says, as soon as he opens his window and stares right into Jeno’s cheeky morning smile. And just like that: suddenly, he isn’t drowsy anymore. “I was planning on sleeping in, this better be good. What do you want?”

“But babe, look,” Jeno whines, and he points at something underneath Jaemin’s sill. “Look at that pretty thing. You’re the prettiest, of course, but that’s a close second.”

Jaemin looks down to see where Jeno is pointing. There’s an array of colorful hues on his bright walls, caused by the sunlight bounding off Jeno’s roof and maybe hitting the glass roof of Jaemin’s attic. Those are the same multicolored shades Jaemin saw under Jeno’s window a few weeks earlier, the ones that he didn’t pay much attention to because he was too busy brooding over their fight.

“Oh my god,” Jaemin murmurs, and Jeno chuckles at his obvious astonishment. “I saw the exact same thing under your window a few while ago.”

“Did you?” Jeno says. “Maybe that’s a sign that we’re meant to be.”

“Mm, I think it’s still too early for you to get cheesy, Jeno,” Jaemin says with a snort, “But yeah, you’re right. Maybe we are.”

**Author's Note:**

> a whole ass 36k just to get jaemin to kiss jeno again smh. tbh if you made it this far i already love you?? are you guys okay??
> 
> anyway this is currently the longest one-shot i've ever written, and 2 months after finishing it i sat back in my chair and was all "what the hell was i on" bc what even is this. do you know that feeling when you take a decent selfie and then the longer you look at it the uglier it seems? yeah that's me with this fic. i was honestly very hyped the first time i finished this bc i spent like... 2634735 years on it... but then over time i just developed some common sense ig T_T what was i thinking
> 
> nevertheless thank you for reading and please don't hesitate to tell me what you think in the comments or in my [cc](https://curiouscat.me/231107)


End file.
